


Sing Me to Sleep

by slipper007



Series: Sing Me to Sleep 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bedside Vigils, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Alcoholism, Castiel in a Female Vessel (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Good Parent Dean Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Ignores s15e20 Carry On, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, The Empty (Supernatural), nonbinary!billie, they don't appear again in this fic but it's important to me that they're alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipper007/pseuds/slipper007
Summary: “You won’t have a lot of time,” Jack warned from where he sat on the table, legs swinging. “The Shadow….it should be asleep now that it has Cas, but it would keep him close. If it catches you, there’s nothing I can do.” He worried his lip. “You’ll be lost forever.”“Awesome.”“Dean, this is an insane risk to take. Just give us a few more—”“Weeks? Sam, it’s already been two months.”Two months up here, who knows how long there.“I’m not letting him rot in there another day if I can help it.”Updates MWF at 5PM EST
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: Sing Me to Sleep 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195391
Comments: 108
Kudos: 151





	1. The Price of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to start this off with a big thank you to:  
> [@bunniebre](https://bunniebre.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for your amazing [Castiel playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6HAOTLSll7XYiqM21ow0JG?si=Mt4I-hDfQrGfSHHA3TSOoQ)! I think it's the only thing I listened to while writing this and it's definitely how I started listening to the Smiths.  
> [Drummond](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/mishamybelovedoverlord7011) for reading this over and over again with me and always knowing how to fix whatever I'm stuck on. You've probably read it more than I have at this point!  
> [Rubi](https://theangelwiththewormstache.tumblr.com) for your ideas and input! Your nice comments and excitement definitely fueled me to keep going with this!  
> [@PromptsForYourWhumpFic](https://promptsforyourwhumpfic.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for [Prompt #514](https://promptsforyourwhumpfic.tumblr.com/post/637177587327762432/whump-prompt-514), which is where this all started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re finally free, but was the cost too high? Can Dean fix it or is it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Freedom isn't enough.  
> What I desire doesn’t have a name yet—  
> 
> 
> – Clarice Lispector, from _Near to the Wild Heart_

“Goodbye.”

Jack raised his hand in farewell before turning away from them. He started to walk away, towards some of the people they had saved, taking Dean’s hope away with him.

“Jack?”

Their son turned back, expression light and free. He was happy, wasn’t he? He had fulfilled his destiny, like Kelly knew he would, like Cas—

Dean knew he should be happy for him. Jack was his kid, too, despite their rocky history, but in order to be happy, truly happy…

“Bring him back,” he choked. “Please, Jack. Bring Cas back.”

Jack’s expression fell and Dean felt his heart ache.

“Dean, I’ve tried. I have. Even God doesn’t have power in the Empty, you know that.”

“Chuck brought friggin' _Lucifer_ back,” Dean snarled. Why was that? Why did Satan himself deserve to come back again and again and _again_ to torture them all? Castiel always had his heart in the right place, _always happy to bleed for the Winchesters,_ until it killed him. _Dean_ had killed him.

“That was different,” Jack said, softly. “Nick, his vessel, had woken him up. Lucifer was almost back, he was fighting to come back, until I killed Nick. All Chuck had to do was open the door.”

“What about when _you_ brought him back? Cas, I mean,” Sam finally chimed in.

Jack mournfully shook his head. “All I did was wake him up. Castiel fought to get out all on his own.”

“Can you wake him again? Or open a door, or whatever?” Dean hated how desperate he sounded but if Jack could do it…

“I…” The new God looked down, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I don’t think so.” Dean couldn’t keep his face from crumpling. “Last time, Cas had something to come back to; he wasn’t ready to die. This time, he made a deal. He offered himself up to keep me safe…” Jack paused fondly before finding Dean’s gaze. “And he did the same for you.”

“He made a choice,” Sam echoed.

“No.” Dean’s mind was reeling. Choosing to be happy shouldn’t be a death sentence. “There has to be something we can do. There’s _always_ something!”

“Dean…”

“No, I mean it, Sam. Cas is family, we’re not going to give up on him!”

“And nobody says we will, Dean,” Sam said, softly. “But we just defeated God. Things are different now.”

“Different? Cas is _dead_ , Sam.”

“And I get that, I do. But we’re not heroes of Chuck’s story anymore. We don’t know how things are going to change. Remember last time?”

Dean did remember last time when they had nearly gotten ganked by Sam’s legs and lactose. Garth had to step in and save their asses on a run-of-the-mill case. But still—

“Jack is God now, right? That means God is on _our_ side for once.” Dean turned to Jack, who looked uncomfortable, prompting Dean to ask, “What?”

“I’m…I’m new to this. I’ve had these powers for only an hour. Please, just…give me time.”

He gave Dean a smile, happy and sad at the same time but overwhelmingly warm. Almost beatific. He looked so much like Castiel in that moment that it took everything to keep from sobbing, to bury the raw emotion until it was safe to feel again.

Dean couldn’t argue, not with that look. He bit his lip and nodded spastically, unable to trust his voice. Their son— _Cas’ son_ —gave a final wave with that little smile still on his face. He faded away into light, true to his word about being everywhere, but Dean saw him mouth _“Thank you.”_

Sam let out a shaky breath when Jack was gone, and Dean saw the tear treads running down his brother’s face. Down both of their faces. He pulled Sam into a hug, though even he wasn’t sure who it was meant to comfort.

“We will get him back. As soon as we can, we’ll save him,” Sam promised after a few minutes, when they had broken apart, but both leaned against the Impala, far too overwhelmed to start the drive home. Was it a home, without Castiel and Jack?

Dean wanted to argue, as desperately as he wanted to bring Castiel back right that moment, even he had to admit that they both had a point. They lived in a new world, literally. Half-cocked knee-jerk choices were not the way to go. Not yet at least.

That being said, Sam didn’t fight him when they found Miracle, newly resurrected.

She bounded right up to them and stopped, warm and safe in Dean’s arms. He held her tightly for a moment before opening up the car door and allowing her to jump in. He rolled the driver’s side passenger window down for her and she loved every second of the drive back.

As soon as they got back to the Bunker, Dean started making a home for Miracle. He gathered some spare blankets before having an epiphany: she could just sleep with him. She would love the bed, and he would love having her there with him.

It was just his luck the Men of Letters, stuffy old guys that they’d been, had some food dishes perfect for Miracle. He had seen them months ago when he had been looking for an artifact and left them in storage without another thought. He headed over to get them now only to freeze in front of the doorway.

The door to Room 7B was heavy and even standing in front of it took a toll. Mouth dry, Dean managed to put his hand on the knob but couldn’t find it in himself to open the door. He knew what waited on the other side for him, and he didn’t want to see it. The empty space, the sheer nothingness—not even goo or a coat this time—was too much.

He could get the dishes later. Better yet, he could buy new ones. Miracle would love that, wouldn’t she? She deserved nice new dishes to eat from. And while he was out, he could get her food and toys as well.

Dean went back to his room to start making space for Miracle’s things only to see himself in his mirror and freeze. There was a handprint on his shoulder, marked in blood. Slowly, Dean slotted his hand over the mark, aligning the fingers with his own.

Cas.

Dean turned away and bit his lip, hard. Tasting blood, he took his utility jacket off and folded it neatly before putting it in a drawer out of sight. He was too sober for this.

He wandered out into the library, looking for Miracle and pointedly ignoring everything else when he stopped. _SW. DW. MW._ His family, immortalized in the wood of the table. His fingers traced his mother’s initials absently in thought. Family didn’t end in blood, and the Bunker had been a home to far more than just the Winchesters. They deserved to have their legacy remembered, too.

Dean pulled out his pocketknife, the same one Castiel had used, back in the dungeon. Slowly, carefully, he dug it into the wood and painstakingly added two names: Jack and Castiel. They always should have been there. They should have known that they belonged. It was Dean’s fault for not including them enough, not helping them to feel seen. Maybe if he had, they wouldn’t have left. With a heavy heart, Dean remembered standing in this same library, shouting that Jack wasn’t family. He remembered nearly killing him and blaming him for things beyond his control. Just as bad was the memory of Castiel at this same table, sitting and eating a burrito and being content, happy even, just before Dean had kicked him out. That wasn’t even the worst, was it? No, he had done so much worse to Castiel, even just in the library.

What about beating him to a bloody pulp and leaving him broken on the floor? Mark or no Mark, he had done that. Even if it had taken him everything not to give in to the Mark and kill him. The Collette to his Cain, only asking him to stop. What about only a few months ago?

_Something went wrong. You know this. Something always goes wrong._

_Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?_

Dean felt sick just thinking about it. He could vividly remember the hurt on Cas’ face and the shock that Dean had said that. It was one of his biggest fears, being a useless screw-up, only around until he was no longer useful. Dean had known that and still said it. What kind of a person did that make him? And more than that, what did that make Cas’ true happiness? How do you love someone like that, someone irredeemable? It couldn’t be love.

Castiel was wrong. He hadn’t done everything out of love. If he had, he never would have pushed Cas away.

To distract himself, Dean tore his eyes from the newly added names and caught himself thinking about adding more. Who else was family, who else had they neglected to include?

Sam came out from the hallway looking ready to have a heart to heart and Dean couldn’t take it.

“You want a beer?” Without waiting for an answer, Dean stood. “I’m gonna grab a beer.” Then he headed towards the kitchen.

“It's pretty quiet,” Sam said once Dean returned, taking the offered beer. Dean hummed in agreement.

There was a silence, so heavy that Dean almost didn’t break it. In a rough voice, he managed to say, “To everyone that we lost along the way.” He clinked his beer against Sam’s and took a swig, ending it abruptly. He needed something stronger. Vodka, maybe, or bourbon, though he wasn’t sure if they had either of those in the Bunker anymore. He had already gone through a fair amount after Cas was taken, and then even more when it was the whole world. Still, maybe he had missed a bottle somewhere. He was about to stand to search when Sam started to speak.

“You know…with Chuck not writing our story anymore, we get to write our own.” His voice lilted upwards, optimistic in a way that Dean hadn’t heard in months. “You know, just you and me going wherever the story takes us…. Just us.”

“Finally free,” Dean summed up. He thought about the last few months, his own obsession with freedom. Sam’s statement was right—it was just them. They hadn’t reached out to anyone else yet, too overwhelmed with the implications of Chuck being defeated. That didn’t change the fact that Castiel wasn’t there to share it with them. Or Jack for that matter. He had been shoehorned into the position of God, had never gotten to be a kid. Dean’s heart ached in sympathy. If anything, Jack was more trapped than ever.

Sam and Dean had gotten their freedom, but at one hell of a cost. Still, Sam looked so hopeful…. Dean could be content, or at least pretend to be, for Sam’s sake.

He clapped his little brother on the shoulder, forced a smile, and they went for a drive.

For a little while, he dared to hope that by flooring it on the open road, with music blasting from the radio, Dean might be able to escape his grief. They could go anywhere, do anything. He and Sam had earned the right to a fresh start after at least three apocalypses, but Dean didn’t know if that was what he wanted. How could he start over if his best friend was dead and their kid was gone? He might still have Sam, but what about the rest of his family? Didn’t they all deserve the chance to begin again?

There was no destination to their journey and even Dean didn’t know where they were going. All he knew was that they were going away. To distract himself from the road, he paid more attention to the music, only to balk at it. _Running on Empty._ He couldn’t help grimacing at that last word and turned the music off rather than changing the station.

Sam, for his part, was watching Dean, taking in and gauging his reaction. Well, what was the damn point of the drive if neither of them was enjoying it?

When they got back, Sam seemed just as disturbed as Dean felt. The world had fundamentally changed, and it was like it hadn’t. The world went on, every moment passed as though there wasn’t a throbbing ache in Dean’s chest. They had lost their son and best friend. They were alone all over again, just like those first few lonely years when they had been looking for John.

Dean hated it.


	2. Did He Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Canon-Typical Alcoholism / Alcohol Abuse**  
>  It really is just them. Dean struggles to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > And my mind was empty – or it was as though my mind had become one enormous, anaesthetized wound. I thought only _One day I’ll weep for this. One of these days I’ll start to cry_.
> 
> – James Baldwin, from _Giovanni’s Room_

The Winchesters settled in their respective spaces—Dean in the kitchen and Sam in the library. The stash of alcohol in the kitchen was gone. Had he really drunk it all already? Dean sighed and took a beer from the fridge instead while he made dinner. He managed to find some solace in it, as he always did. It was nice to cook and bake, to wear a silly apron and ask people to “try this!” After years of living on the road and killing monsters, Dean was able to flip the script. He was able to use his hands, hands that had become accustomed to being covered in blood and gore and dirt, to do good in another way. He didn’t need to be violent anymore; he could care for his family, or what was left of it.

_Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love._

Dean swallowed thickly as emotion rose within him, but managed to keep pushing it down, holding it back. He would deal with it later, once he was alone in his room and sure that Sam wouldn’t walk in. He finished cooking up the burgers and took a few steps over to where he had already laid out the plates and hamburger buns.

Four plates waited to be filled. Only Sam and Dean remained.

“Going out!” he shouted over his shoulder a few heartbeats later, running up the stairway and out the door before Sam could stop him.

He didn’t make it to the liquor store. His eyes were burning and his vision swimming only minutes after he left, and rapidly he found himself pulling off onto the side of the road. Everything was too much.

Castiel was gone. He was dead, after nearly a dozen years of it not sticking. Dean had thought that maybe grieving would get easier. After all, he had lost everyone: his mother, his father, his brother, Bobby, every friend they had ever had, and so many more. It hurt like hell, every single time, but eventually he could cope. He had lost Castiel before, five deaths and countless almosts before this one. Why did it hurt worse? Every single time, losing Castiel left him emptier and emptier.

Cas was… Cas was his best friend. A pillar in his life. Someone who he could count on. Someone who should have outlived him. But he was more than that, wasn’t he? Dean hadn’t gotten the chance to reply, had hardly gotten to process before Castiel was gone. Cas _loved_ him, and Dean hadn’t—

Dean neither knew nor cared how long he sat there. His grief only grew deeper with each minute, especially with the sheer despair of realizing that Castiel’s true happiness was what had killed him. His happiness was coming out, speaking his truth, and now he was dead. Dean ran out of tears, but ugly, breathless sobs still racked his body when he found it in himself to pull back onto the road.

The salesclerk in the liquor store gave him a look as he checked out. Dean didn’t know if it was for the volume he was buying or how fucked he undoubtedly looked. Didn’t care, either. He held off for the drive back and started drinking in the garage. Then the library. When Sam found him on his way to his room, Dean was solidly drunk and sobbing again, too far gone to care about appearances anymore. He just wanted the pain of it all to be gone.

He fought to keep the bottle of bourbon, but Sam managed to take it, along with the rest. Without something in his hands, they were restless. Dean ran them over his face and through his hair before they ended up clutching at Sam’s shirt as the weight of his grief pulled him down.

“They’re… they’re jus'… gone,” he mumbled into Sam’s shoulder. “Jack… ‘nd C— Cas…”

He felt his brother’s arms close tighter around him and somehow felt worse, like he didn’t deserve it.

“I…I k-killed ‘im, Sam. He tol’… me he l-loved me, ‘nd then he was…”

Sam helped him to his room and stayed with him until he fell asleep, listening and shushing him in equal regard. With his eyes bleary and full of unshed tears, Dean thought the silhouette of Sam in the extra chair looked almost like Castiel, and he took comfort in that for a few minutes.

When Dean woke up, his heart was racing and the distorted nightmare of black goo was rapidly fading. He turned to the empty chair in his room and then to the door before seeing Miracle. She had situated herself in between his legs and was whining loudly. If he had been a little less hungover, he probably would have found it terrifying, given the number of nightmares he’d had featuring whines and growls. The sound grated against his ears, but she seemed to perk up seeing him awake. Decidedly less nightmare-ish. He carefully extracted himself from his bed and ran the cold tap water over his hands and wrists, letting it ground him before washing the sweat from his face and popping a pain-reliever. He looked rough, with bags under bloodshot eyes and stubble across his jaw and cheeks. He probably smelled as well, wearing yesterday’s clothes soiled by booze and sweat. It didn’t matter much; Dean had no intention of going anywhere and lacked the energy to get cleaned up.

Miracle whined loudly again and Dean allowed himself to get back into bed to lay with her until she was a little happier. He absentmindedly scratched Miracle’s head while waiting for the throbbing ache in his head and chest to dissipate. He settled for one of the two and, after a few hours, made his way out of his room.

Sam was on the phone in the library, but upon seeing his brother put an end to his conversation. Dean didn’t know what he expected: to be chastised, perhaps, or to be forced through a heart-to-heart. Worse, to have Sam look at him with pity without saying a damn thing. Instead, his brother wrapped him in a brief hug.

“How are you holding up?”

“Peachy.”

“Dean…”

“’M fine, Sam.” Dean kept his tone stiff as he pulled out a seat, unwilling to become the sobbing mess again in front of his brother. Maybe Sam understood that, as he changed the subject after a beat.

“Hey, I talked to Jody. She and the girls are okay, and she says Donna is, too.”

“That’s awesome,” Dean said, nodding.

“Yeah. She wanted to know if we wanted to catch dinner next week sometime.”

Dean froze for a second before shaking his head adamantly. “Maybe some other time.”

“What? Why?”

“Claire. Sam, I would have to tell her that Cas….”

Sam’s face filled with understanding and his own grief. “I’ll tell her we can’t make it.”

The days passed slowly. Sam reached out to their friends one by one, finding with relief that everyone was back, alive and safe. Sam had damn near cried when Eileen answered a video call, voice bright and face beaming. Charlie confirmed that her girlfriend Stevie was back. Garth and his family were okay, too. Everyone they could think to contact was back, Heaven seemed to be in order, and Rowena confirmed that Hell was back in business. Only one person was still gone.

Sam and Dean both buried themselves in research, though they both made time for the newest edition of the family. Miracle found her place next to Dean in the library and he was grateful for her. Caring for her provided a welcome distraction and reminded him to take care of himself as well. He and Sam tended to her jointly, though she slept almost exclusively in Dean’s room. However, she adored going with Sam for his morning jogs, even more so now when Eileen joined some of them. She had been wary of Miracle at first for reasons Dean completely understood, having also been dragged to hell by hellhounds, but Miracle was sweet and gentle, and, like Dean, Eileen warmed up to her as well.

Eileen still lived out of town, but since the fight with Chuck, she and Sam started getting serious again. It was nice, seeing both her and Sam so happy together, even if it made Dean’s heart ache more. She’d spent the night only once or twice, and they hadn’t gotten to talk much between the infrequent visits and Dean’s determination to save Castiel, but he was glad to see her back in their lives.

Eileen invited them to celebrate a day of Hanukkah with her, something Sam insisted they both go to despite Dean’s reluctance to do anything that wasn’t directly related to finding a way to save Cas. Still, eating a latke at Eileen’s kitchen table and watching her teach Sam “Happy Hanukkah” in sign language, he had to admit that he was glad he went. Life since defeating Chuck had been a mess, with more anger and unhappiness than he cared to admit. It was nice to see that someone was getting their happy ending, and he was so glad that it was Eileen and Sammy.


	3. The Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is back, and the boys figure out a way to bring Castiel back, but is the cost too high?
> 
> [mild spoiler for Disney's _Inside Out_ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Two thoughts, equally as terrifying: WHAT IF I SEE YOU AGAIN? WHAT IF I DON’T?  
> 
> 
> –Margaret Schnabel, untitled

About a month and a half since they’d defeated Chuck, Jack had yet to answer a prayer, and they had incredibly little information on the Empty. It would be a miracle if they could safely get in, let alone bring someone back. Dean started to feel desperation creep back in, followed by bouts of hopelessness that neither Sam nor Miracle could snap him out of. Not fully.

Today was an alright day. Dean certainly didn’t feel happy, but he was functional. That was good enough, right? Sam sat across from him, diligently researching and looking to see if maybe witchcraft could help. It made Dean feel worse, to see Sam coping so well. Even with Cas gone, he could focus for more than half an hour at a time, yet here Dean was with twenty tabs and no idea what he was doing with any of them. One was an article about a pie fest coming to Akron, Ohio, but Dean closed it, unsure as to why it had been open in the first place. He would have time to eat pie after they got Cas back.

Dean’s gaze caught on the names carved into the table again. Family: People who care about you through the good and the bad. People who have your back, even when it hurts. Who else fit the bill?

Adam. They didn’t even know if the poor son of a bitch could come back, even if he wanted to. Kevin. He had died right here in this library and had gone to hell. How screwed up was it that he was now trapped on earth, unable to go to heaven? Charlie. She had died for them, three times now between her and her apocalypse world doppelganger. Was she just collateral damage? How could the Winchesters ever let her think that?

The more Dean thought about it, the more names he could list. Bobby. Jody and Donna and the girls. Eileen. Garth. Ellen and Jo and Ash and Pamela and Missouri. Benny. Rowena. Hell, even Crowley.

Nearly two dozen people he could list off the top of his head. Nearly two dozen people who had helped them get where they were today. The Winchesters were nothing without their friends and family, and family didn’t end in blood.

“Hey, Sammy?” Sam looked up from his research. “What do you say we add some names?”

Half of the table was covered in initials by the time they were done and Dean’s hand was starting to cramp a little from how he held the knife, but it felt right. This was how the table was supposed to be: This was their family.

As if on cue, Jack appeared in the Bunker right by Miracle, who barked in surprise.

“Jack?”

“Hello,” he said brightly, holding up a hand in greeting. It was mere seconds until he was enveloped in a hug.

Dean held back and let them have a moment. Sam was better with that kind of stuff. Besides, he and Jack had always had a rocky relationship to say the least, especially now that Cas was…

“You’re back!” Sam’s face split into a bright grin, the happiest he had been in days. Dean’s heart ached a little deeper.

“I found a lead,” Jack offered, getting straight to business. “A way to bring Cas back.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. How?” Dean asked, stepping forward.

“There’s a spell to make humans invisible to cosmic beings.” He handed Sam a sheet of paper from his pocket. “If you cast that, the Shadow won’t be able to see that you’re there.”

“What the hell is the Shadow?”

“The being in the Empty,” Jack explained. “It’s not going to give him up willingly, you’re going to have to sneak him out.”

“What about getting in?”

“I can open a rift.”

“Well, let’s go then,” Dean said, feeling exhilaration for the first time in weeks. “We get in, get Cas, get out.”

“That won’t work,” Sam said before Jack had a chance.

“Why the hell not?”

“I can’t perform this spell. Not yet at least.”

“Can we get Rowena to do it?”

Jack shook his head. “It draws on the living body.”

“I would have to ask her about some of these pronunciations, too.”

“Alright, so you go to hell and learn some magic, become a regular ginger junior, and then we make me invisible or whatever.”

“There’s still another problem, Dean.” Sam said, looking up from the spell again. “He still made a deal. The Empty has a claim on him.”

Jack nodded in agreement as Dean shook his head.

“No, there has to be a way. There’s _always_ a way. You were a law student, aren’t agreements like this right up your alley?”

“I was _pre_ -law,” Sam corrected. “I never made it to my interview, remember? And that was _fifteen years ago._ We didn’t exactly cover ‘loopholes in agreements with cosmic beings’ in my undergrad classes.”

Dammit, they were _so close_ , closer than they had ever been, and they still couldn’t bring him back. Not yet.

“Okay, so we figure it out,” Dean said in a measured tone. “He’s counting on us; we need to bring him back.”

“We will, Dean, of course we will, but we need to get this right.”

“Right.” Dean looked between the two of them and Miracle still sitting in her chair. “I need a drink.”

He left them all in the library. Dean wandered down the hall to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. After a few minutes, he decided to make himself a sandwich, too, but stopped. His eyes lingered on the cereal lined up neatly on the shelf. An unopened box of Krunch Cookie Crunch sat there, safely nestled among the rest. It was Jack’s favorite; Dean knew because he had bought it for him the first time.

_Jack’s not family!_

Yes, he was. Of course he was. He was their kid. Well, Cas’ kid. Dean hesitated to credit himself for helping to raise him. All he could think about was how rough he’d been on him, right from the start. He’d blamed him for Cas. Jack hadn’t even been a day old when Dean had done that. He’d been trying to make up for it ever since, trying to be the cool but firm dad, like Castiel was. Dean wanted to be loving. He’d always had a knack with kids, maybe because of raising Sam or maybe because he was still trying to make up for never getting to be one. The time for that was over now. Dean wasn’t a child, and he never would be, but he had passed that on rather than accept it.

Dean had forced Jack to be more than a child. At first, he’d thought it was the right thing. He remembered pride swelling in his small chest whenever John had treated him like an adult. While his peers were in the Boy Scouts, Dean earned his badges of merit practicing his shooting, caring for Sam, hustling pool, all to get a contented slap on the shoulder if he was lucky. He had been content with that and had longed (at first) to be more like the man he was expected to be.

But Jack wasn’t Dean. He never had to worry about his brother, or where his next meal would come from. Jack was young, and happy, and free. He was surrounded by love and gave it back freely. He was selfless and kind and true.

And then he’d gotten upset. He made a mistake. He killed someone he loved; someone they all loved.

Hadn’t Dean done that? Maybe he hadn’t used nephil mojo, but he’d made more than his share of mistakes and hurt countless friends.

Sam had never turned on him. Cas had never turned on him.

Why had Dean turned on Jack?

Maybe he saw a little too much of himself in the kid.

Maybe he was a little more like John than he thought.

No longer hungry, Dean made his way to his room.

At first, he thought he might be able to nap, find something to drown out the guilt festering in his soul, but the more he lied there in the silence, the louder his thoughts grew.

He had a lot to make up for.

_“Hey, Jack. You listening?”_

“Yes,” Jack said, appearing behind him. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t jump.

“Hey, kid. I, uh, need to talk to you.”

“I know,” Jack replied with ease. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, Jack, I do.” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck as he walked half a circuit around the room. “I’ve been horrible to you, man, I’ve—I’ve been like _my dad,_ and that’s not okay. You don’t deserve that; you’ve _never_ deserved that.” Dean felt his throat thicken. “What you did without a soul... Mom... None of that is your fault. It was an accident.”

The Winchester managed to look Jack in the eyes for a moment, only to see that they were soft. “And I should have stopped you, with the original plan to take out Chuck. I should have been better to you and better for you. Instead, all I’ve done is push you away and make you a tool. I made you out to be a monster, Jack, I—”

“You’ve done more than that, Dean,” the younger man replied, and Dean felt himself stiffen in preparation for a new wave of guilt.

“You made me who I am. You taught me about family and doing what’s right. You showed me that life is about the little moments and the memories. It’s about trust and love… Cas… he said you all cared about me for me, not my destiny. And without you, I…I don’t know. I wouldn’t be me.”

Jack sank down onto the edge of the bed, no longer able to meet Dean’s gaze.

“More than that, you’ve shown me that we all make mistakes. We all have regrets. We say things and we hurt people we care about and we can’t always make it right. But we can try. We have to try. We owe it to ourselves and those we hurt.”

Dean sank next to Jack on the bed. Kid had a point.

“I would like to come back,” Jack added suddenly. “With you and Sam and…”

Dean’s heart throbbed again, even without hearing his name. He wasn’t the only one gutted by their loss.

“We’ll get him back, Jack.”

“I know. But I want a chance to be…a family.”

Dean felt his expression soften. “This is your home, and we _are_ a family. We all want you here, but…” Dean saw Jack’s face fall. “Jack, you’re not a nephilim, you—”

“A nephil,” Jack corrected.

“What?”

“Amara said I was a nephil.” Dean kept staring, so Jack said, “It’s from Hebrew. The -im is the plural ending, and I’m… I’m just me.”

“Alright, well, you’re not a nephil, you’re capital G God now.” Jack started to respond again, but Dean beat him to it.

“Look, I get it, Jack. You’re a kid, and you’ve grown up too fast, but…” Dean exhaled slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. What would he have told himself thirty years ago? “I know what it’s like, to be pinned down by destiny and expectations. I know you didn’t ask for this, and that this is a lot, but you’re a good kid. You care so much about everyone and everything. _The whole world._ If anyone can make it work, it’s you. I know you’ll do what’s right, and Sam and me are here if you need us.”

“Does that mean I can’t come back?”

“It means you can’t drop everything to come back,” Dean said firmly. “If you’re not in charge, then who is?”

“Amara, for a while.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Amara? Isn’t she still…in there? With you?”

“No, she’s rebuilding part of Heaven.”

“She’s…” Dean took a moment to let that sink in. “Alone? Do you trust her? After the stunt she pulled?”

“She just wanted freedom and peace, like you and Sam,” Jack explained. “She trusted you, but you were willing to kill her, and it hurt. She wanted to trust Chuck, but he was the same.”

“What, so now she trusts you?”

Jack gave a small smile and looked to the ground. “We talked before I left, Dean. She doesn’t trust me fully, but giving her space will help.” Proudly, he added, “We’re getting to know each other. Now that this is all over.”

Dean shook his head, still worried.

“She knows more about running the world than I do, and she loves humanity now. You know that. She wants to do right.”

“And did she tell you that?”

“I could sense it.”

He smiled—a Cas smile—and Dean felt strangely like he was minutes from crying but pushed it down. Jack had faith in Amara, that was good enough for him.

“Of course you can come home, Jack.” Dean wrapped him in a tight hug and felt his chest constrict as Jack hugged back just as intensely. “We missed you so much, kid.”

“I missed you, too,” Jack said before drawing back. “It’s been so busy; I was starting to worry I wouldn’t be able to come back down.”

“What are you up to? Ya’know, upstairs.”

“Sorting souls. Fixing things Chuck broke.”

“Oh?”

Jack nodded earnestly. “Because Heaven was failing, the Veil was full and then Rowena said Chuck brought back a lot of ghosts and cracked Hell right open.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, a lot of those ghosts were left stuck on Earth or went to the wrong place. We brought back Billie to help us—”

“Hang on, Billie? Like tried to kill us all multiple times Billie?”

Jack’s face darkened for a moment and it startled Dean how much he looked like Chuck. “Yes, but they're the best person for the job.” His gaze softened. “They only ever double crossed us because they thought they could be a better god than Chuck, but that you would never let them get there. And they were right. Nobody was willing to give them the position, so they felt they had to take it.”

“And that fixes things?”

“Billie cares about the souls, Dean. They really care about fixing things. That was why they tried to become God in the first place. Billie understands how to make the hard choices, and what we need to do to keep the universe in balance, even without Chuck and with me on Earth. They even letting us bring people back. People who shouldn’t have died. People who were wronged by the universe.”

“Oh yeah, like who?”

“Kevin Tran. Charlie Bradbury. Missouri Mosely. Adam Milligan. A few others you might know.”

Jack looked away.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t bring back Mary.”

Dean wasn’t going to lie, knowing that Mary was gone hurt, but…

“Kid, I think you’re doing enough good even without bringing her back. Cas said she was happy—”

“She is.”

“Then that’s good enough for me.” He offered Jack a sad smile. “I’ll see her in a few years anyway, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess I have to thank you and Billie.”

Jack still wasn’t done though.

“We’re doing away with Purgatory as well.”

“So, no more monster heaven?”

“Purgatory wasn’t… It never was a heaven. It was cruel. People who were turned, who never had a chance, just got stuck there. It wasn’t fair to them.”

“So, the monsters…?”

“They go to Heaven and Hell, too.”

Dean frowned for a minute, trying to envision vampires and werewolves in a place like the Heaven he had seen years ago. “Jack, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Jack gave him a peculiar look. “You have friends who are ‘monsters’ Dean. Sam told me about Garth and his family. They’re all werewolves; do they deserve to go to purgatory?”

Dean blanched at the idea. He didn’t want to think of that, of Garth and Bess and their three kids sent to a place where they would kill or be killed for the rest of time. “No, of course not.”

“Then you see the problem. The monsters aren’t monsters like we thought – they’re just people put in circumstances beyond their control. They still have souls and I think we should let them rest like we do with the humans. Rowena agrees. She says that the only real monsters are the people who turn themselves into one. Those are the people who will go to Hell.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you guys are doing a complete overhaul on the whole system.”

“We are, and it will take time,” Jack admitted. “But it’s important. It’s like what you and Sam and Cas taught me.”

Jack smiled at him.

“This is about doing what’s right, even though it’s hard.”

With that, Jack left to talk to Sam and Dean, after processing everything Jack had said, went to the kitchen to start dinner.

Dean pulled out three plates, hands hovering over a fourth.

_“It’s okay, Cas. We’re coming for you.”_

They had burgers that night. Well, burgers and that weird fake chicken soy patty that Sam had picked up at the store. They made small talk as they ate. Sam talked about Eileen, Jack talked about Heaven and all that he’d seen, Dean talked about Miracle and some of the tricks he’d taught her.

The meal went by quickly and there was seldom an awkward pause. In no time, Dean was cleaning and eyeing Jack as he helped Sam with drying the dishes.

They owed the kid some normalcy, especially after everything.

“Hey, what do you say we call it? Movie night?”

“Does this mean we have to watch _Lost Boys_ again?”

“What? No.”

Sam gave his brother a wry look and said, “In fact, you can pick.”

Jack’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Really,” Dean agreed, admittedly a little reluctantly. “Go on down and look through Netflix, we’ll meet you down there.”

“With popcorn?”

“With popcorn.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. Sam set down the dish he was drying in favor of starting the popcorn.

“You two seem good. You talk to him?”

“Yeah, little bit.” Dean finished up the dishes and started drying them and putting them away. “He wants to come back. For us all to be a family.”

“That would be nice,” Sam replied. “But who would be God?”

“Short answer: Amara.”

Sam was silent for a long moment before he said, “God is a woman.”

Dean nodded and said, “I guess,” before seeing Sam’s smile. “What?”

“Like that song?”

“By...Arianna Grande?”

“Yeah, you’ve heard it!”

“Yeah, and it sucked, Sam.”

“Better not let Jack or Cas hear you say that,” Sam said with a laugh. “They love some of her stuff.”

“I’ve never been so disgusted by you all.”

Sam just smiled and put the popcorn into a bowl before heading to the DeanCave. “We’ll wait for you to start.”

When Dean finished up the dishes, he found out that Jack had picked Disney’s _Inside Out._ Sam stole one of the recliners while Miracle, Jack, and Dean all took the couch that Dean had picked up a few weeks ago when Ms. Butters had been around. The movie went by quickly, and Dean definitely _did not_ cry, unlike Sam and Jack. No, he just had something in his eyes. A lot of something. He left for a few minutes to get more popcorn only to find Jack inconsolable.

“What’d I miss?” he asked Sam, who also looked distraught.

“Bing Bong died,” Sam whispered back.

Shit.

They made it through the rest of the movie and the popcorn with many more tears but ultimately Jack seemed pleased with his movie choice. The screen rolled through the credits and eventually stopped on _Up Next: Hercules_.

“Alright,” Dean said, stretching. “Do we want to call it or watch another?”

“Another!”

“How about you, Sam?”

Dean looked over and saw his brother very still, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Sam?”

“We know the Empty is like the asphodel meadows, right?”

“The what?”

“Greek mythology. There’s not punishment like hell or a reward like heaven. It’s more of a middle ground for everyone in between. There’s just sleep, and echoes of what life was like.”

“Okay, so?”

“The Empty…only the angels and demons go there. Billie was going to send us there, but we wouldn’t have gone there on our own because we’re human, right Jack?”

Jack nodded and Dean realized where Sam was going with a sinking feeling.

“If Cas was human, he wouldn’t go to the Empty when he died. It wouldn’t have a claim on him because he wouldn’t belong there anymore.”

“You want to take his grace from him?” Dean felt ill. All he could think of was Rexford, Castiel becoming the target of a rogue Rit Zien. Roughing it in the back of a Gas-N-Sip. “Make him human again?”

“No, I don’t _want_ to,” Sam said defensively. “But I don’t have any better ideas.”

“Well, your idea sucks. We can’t do that to him.”

“No,” Jack said, looking about as ill as Dean felt. “Sam’s right.”

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

“As long as he’s an angel, he will always go back to the Empty and it will always have a claim on him.”

“So, we make a deal—”

“ _No._ The Shadow… it doesn’t play fair, Dean.” Jack’s eyes were wide and desperate, his grip tight on Dean’s arm as if to stop him. “I went there. I tried to reason with it, but it… it took Cas’ form and tried to lure me further. You _can’t_ make a deal or even talk to it. If it sees you, you might as well be dead because it will drag you somewhere that even I can’t reach.”

Dean felt desperation and anger and sadness rise up in him. “So, we just pop his batteries out and he can never have them back? We force him to live as a human for the rest of his life?”

“Yes. Because we don’t have another choice.”

“It’s not _our_ choice to begin with. It should be Cas’ and he wouldn’t want this.”

“He would want you to make a deal instead?” Sam cut in.

Jack added, “Dean, you don’t understand what it’s like in there. I spent months in the Empty waiting, and every angel and demon in there is living out their worst memories. Imagine having a nightmare and it never ends. You never wake up. You’re stuck in your own personal hell forever.”

“I _can_ imagine that; I’ve been living it for weeks.”

“Then you know that you can’t leave him there, no matter the cost.”

Dean let out a frustrated huff and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just…” he tossed the remote to Sam and picked up the empty popcorn bowl. “Pick a damn movie.”

Dean left, and when he came back, the conversation was over. They watched something, but Dean’s thoughts were far too wrapped up in Castiel’s fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Billie is nonbinary. You can pry them out of my tiny enby hands
> 
> Thank you to Tumblr users [JewFrogs](http://jewfrogs.tumblr.com) and [JewishCharlieBradbury](https://jewishcharliebradbury.tumblr.com) for [this post](https://jewishcharliebradbury.tumblr.com/post/642958515825164288/why-did-not-one-single-spn-writer-think-about-how), which I am ashamed to say I didn’t know before.
> 
> Important to say: the asphodel fields or meadows are not like the Empty in many other ways, I just like mythology and saw a tie between the two in that they should be completely neutral. I highly recommend reading more about the meadows [here](https://enacademic.com/dic.nsf/enwiki/1993278) and [here](https://wiki.uiowa.edu/display/theatre/The+Greek+Underworld) as a starting point if you're interested!!!


	4. Mpwf Dbt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Sam in Hell, Dean and Jack spend some time together. Dean realizes that losing Cas left a bigger impact than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Ring the bells that still can ring.
>> 
>> Forget your perfect offering. 
>> 
>> There is a crack in everything.
>> 
>> That’s how the light gets in.  
> 
> 
> – Leonard Cohen, from _Anthem_

It didn’t take long for Sam to call Rowena and get some things together. She agreed to teach Sam as much witchcraft as he needed to know and invited him to stay down in Hell while he was learning. “ _Easier for both of them”_ she said. Dean opted to stay above ground with Jack and Miracle.

The first day was the hardest.

After seeing Sam off, Dean walked into the kitchen and found Jack sitting there with a bowl of Krunch Cookie Crunch.

“Jack? What’s wrong?”

“It has the decoder ring,” he replied softly, holding it out to Dean. “We both had one. He’d use it to leave me notes. I had to figure out what code he used.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, feeling the familiar ache in his chest grow. “Nice messages?”

“Always,” Jack said with a nod. “He always knew what was going on in my head…what to say.”

“He’s like that.” Dean couldn’t bring himself to say _was_. “You decode them all already?”

“I still haven’t figured out one. He apologized for making it harder and wanted to help, but I said I would get it.” Jack hesitated for a moment before adding, “He gave me another the day he…”

“You haven’t gotten to solve that one either?”

“No… It’s been busy. Upstairs.”

Dean nodded. He could only imagine the stress of running Heaven, the burden placed on a child before Amara had stepped up. He needed to thank her for that, for allowing Jack to come home and be a child for a little while.

“Maybe you can decode them today. Not much to do while Sam’s downstairs.”

Jack visibly brightened, as though he hadn’t thought of that.

“Would you like to help me?”

“Sure, kid, but finish your cereal first.”

After Jack ate and Dean cleaned the dish, they met up again in the library. Jack had in his hand a slip of paper. Dean could see Castiel’s neat penmanship across it, and Jack handed it over for him to read, or rather, to try to read.

_Kbdl. Ju’t plbz up cf tdbsfe. Lopx uibu zpvs qpxfst epo’u efgjof zpv. Zpv ibwf zpvstfmg boe zpv ibwf vt. Xf xpo’u mfu zpv gbmm. Mpwf Dbt._

“This one’s a Caesar cipher,” Jack said with certainty. “You can solve it with the ring really easily.”

“How?” Dean asked, mostly to indulge Jack.

“Everything is off by a few letters, so you spin the ring and try each combination until it decodes.” Jack looked back to the paper and grabbed a pencil so he could write it on a separate sheet. “Cas likes to shift everything by one letter because of my initials.”

Jack lined up the J and K on his decoder ring and Dean immediately saw how _Kbdl_ became _Jack_.

“Got it. See?”

Dean looked down at the paper. Jack’s scrawl was messy, but he could clearly make sense of what had once been nonsense.

_Jack. It’s okay to be scared. Know that your powers don’t define you. You have yourself and you have us. We won’t let you fall. Love Cas._

Dean felt a tear form in his eye and quickly blinked it away.

“This the one he gave you the day he…”

“The day he died.”

Jack stared down at the decoded message, worrying his lip. “Do you think he knows how much I love him?”

“What?”

“I never… I never left him any messages back. What if he didn’t know?”

“Of course he knows, Jack,” Dean reassured. “He knows how much you love him.”

Deep in his heart, he could feel himself asking the same question: Did Castiel ever know what he meant to Dean?

“So, where’s this other code you were talking about?”

Wordlessly, Jack pulled out another sheet. This one made even less sense.

_TsHEa fNAnM EguOF. jTyHI hwoky gSdjC djOro. sDgEI jeSho. SjrpI qMIjL. rARTf Owybd hAFgO OjeDY hrtOU._

_AjNDr xEAgN BezOT. HbLeo pIhur vKuEo dTyOw. hoepE urAvut. Hoenz. pcTBf Uonns psTjk pnzpb SoqAf. jMfDO fiown vEScp._

_NyuTf Dushc EfgAN TuoeR ItgEf. DzTOh gFEhE DuvIT Tjaop ObyqY msOxq hUyRu miSwN._

_dAejr. gyKEF ishvo EfjLI hdXjp. WvhHb sENgH. dfETs nOOgK. Jortj YdOnq soryb UgTOa. jprtS ExcET HhiEy. jPhpr. hRnOP wHaat EanjT DjovO. NfATd fELgL OnjLC._

_—Cas_

“He gave it to me after I came back from the Empty. Just after Mrs. Butters.”

“And you have no idea how to solve it?”

“No,” Jack replied, a vein of frustration clear in his voice. “It’s not a shift. Nothing I do with the ring makes it make sense.”

Dean nodded, staring at it intently. There was something, some pattern to the madness on the paper, but he couldn’t figure out what he saw until it clicked.

“The capital letters spell something out,” Dean said. “Hang on.”

_The name of this code is similar to a food you and Dean both like to eat but Sam doesn’t. Dean tried to feed it to your snake Felix when he took you to see the prophet Donatello. LC._

Jack looked over to Dean with confusion. “What _did_ you try to feed him?”

“Uh…” Shit, how was he supposed to know? That was a year ago. “Well, what do we both like to eat that Sam doesn’t?”

“Krunch Cookie Crunch.”

“I don’t know that they’d name a cipher or a code or whatever after a cereal, Jack.”

“Bacon?”

Dean made a face. “How about I look up types of codes and ciphers and we look to see if any are food?”

“Okay!”

Excited, Jack went over to the bookshelves and pulled out a book on codes that Dean didn’t even know they had. Dean, on the other hand, pulled out his phone and did a search.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathed after a moment. Jack looked up and Dean confirmed, “It _was_ Bacon. It’s a Baconian cipher.”

“But… It’s not in As and Bs…”

Dean looked at it again in thought. “What if the capital and lowercase letters are the As and Bs? Maybe he wrote it out so that A was lowercase, and capital was B?”

Dean pulled the scrap paper over to him and made short work of the code.

_BABBA ABBAB BAABB. ABABB AAAAA ABAAB AABAA. ABABB AABAA. BAAAB ABBAB. ABBBA BAAAA ABBAB BAABB AAABB._

_BABBA ABBAB BAABB. BABAA ABAAA ABABA ABABA. AAAAB AABAA. AAAAA. AABBA BAAAA AABAA AAAAA BAABA. ABABB AAAAA ABBAA._

_BAABA BAAAA BAABB BAAAB BAABA. BABBA ABBAB BAABB BAAAA BAAAB AABAA ABABA AABAB._

_ABAAA. AABBB AAAAA BAABB AABAA. BAABA ABBAB. AABBA ABBAB. AAAAA BABAA AAAAA BABBA. AAAAB BAABB BAABA. ABAAA. ABABB ABAAA BAAAB BAAAB. BABBA ABBAB BAABB._

“Can I try?”

“Course,” Dean said, sliding over the paper. “Your message.”

It didn’t take Jack long to transcribe it. He set his pencil down and pushed the message back over to Dean.

_You make me so proud. You will be a great man. Trust yourself._

_I have to go away, but I miss you._

_—Cas_

“He’s proud of me,” Jack said softly, drooping slightly under revived sadness.

“Cas always has been,” Dean said gently, rising from his chair and pulling Jack in for a one-armed hug. “As soon as he met you, he said you’d be good.”

“I know. And I know he’s always right here,” Jack pressed a hand over his heart, “but I miss him. He’s always stuck somewhere else.”

It was moments like this where Dean saw Jack as the child he was. The way he toed the floor with his sneaker, the steadfast gaze at the ground, the softened tone all betrayed it. He might be God, and he might look like a twenty year old, but he was still so breathtakingly young and uncertain.

“I know, kid, I know. He’s always leaving for somewhere new, getting caught up in things. But Cas always comes back. Every time, no matter what happens. He finds his way back.”

Then he stopped. It hadn’t hurt to say his name.

“How do you know?”

“He’s always done it before. Come hell or high water, no matter what he has to do, Cas always manages. I trust him to fight. To come back.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “Then I want to write him some messages. Like he does for me.”

“Do it. He’ll love them.”

“Do you want to help me?”

“Absolutely.”

Jack’s smile was broad, hopeful. Dean couldn’t help himself from returning it.

A few days later, after writing out dozens of little messages for Castiel, Dean and Jack took Miracle on a walk together. The weather was cool, and Dean could feel winter air biting at his skin.

“I think Sam was right,” Jack said abruptly.

“Bout what?”

“Cas needing to be human.”

“Jack—”

“I know you don’t like it. I don’t like it either. I know how it feels to lose your grace, to suddenly be completely human, and I hate knowing we have to do that to Cas but…”

“He needs to come back.”

“Yes.”

Dean stopped walking, and Miracle plopped herself down and whimpered, eager to continue their walk.

“You’re sure there’s no other way?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said truthfully. “I’m new at this, Dean, but we’re running out of time to find other ways to save him. I don’t even think he could pass through my rift as a human—Amara said that rifts have rules. Especially in places like that.”

“Like what?”

“The Empty is made for angels and demons. It wants to keep them especially; it’s not going to let them go. Trying to take one out is probably just going to kill everyone involved.”

“Like how the portal in purgatory was only good for me because I was human, not a monster?”

“Exactly.”

“What, so I would go in and get him and not be able to take him with me?”

Jack nodded and Dean remembered purgatory. He remembered Cas’ hand in his own for a brief moment before he had been sucked away and Castiel left behind. He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t risk that again.

Miracle whimpered and Dean rubbed at her head to soothe the both of them.

“Is there… Can we take it so that he can get it back? You know, like it was before?” Wait, Jack hadn’t been around for that. “Uh, last time he lost his grace, it was kept in a…a vial, and he was able to take it back. Could we do that again? In case we find another way and he can have his grace back.”

“I can go to Heaven and get one,” Jack promised.

“Right. Well.” Miracle tugged at her leash and they all started walking again. “I still don’t like it.”

Dean heard the sound of wings and looked back to see that Jack was gone.

When Dean and Miracle got back to the Bunker, Jack was there, sitting still as a statue in a chair in the library.

“Dammit, you scared me.”

“Here’s what you asked for,” Jack said, holding out a silver vial on a chain.

Dean stared at it for a long second, let the chain drip from his fingers. Enochian was engraved on the top and bottom, but otherwise it looked like a normal vial. This would have to work.

“Thanks, Jack.”

He went to his room and slid the vial into his jacket, the one still marked by Castiel’s handprint.

 _“It won’t be long now, Cas,”_ he promised. _“As soon as Sam’s back, I’m coming to get you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Rubi](https://theangelwiththewormstache.tumblr.com) for telling me I should go through with the codes!
> 
> (as a disclaimer, the second code was much _much_ longer but it got out of hand so i apologize for cutting it short. just know that cas has only kind reassurances to tell his son)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys are ready for the rescue on Friday!!!


	5. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to the Empty, but there may be an unexpected complication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > You love him anywhere, 
>> 
>> even in this land of no memory, 
>> 
>> even in this domain of hunger.  
> 
> 
> – Margaret Atwood, excerpt of “Eurydice,” from _Interlunar_

Dean’s stomach was in knots, knowing that today was the day they would bring Castiel back. He put on his battle armor—the green jacket with Castiel’s handprint—and allowed his hand to sit overtop the bloody smear. He hadn’t worn it since… _it_ happened, and the jacket smelled heavily of the cedar dresser, but Dean couldn’t help but feel calmer in it as he headed down to the dungeon.

Dean hated the dungeon. It had been cool at first, and helpful as hell over the years, but nowadays he couldn’t even step inside without his breath stopping in his chest. He figured that being trapped by Death themself and having his best friend confess his love and die on the spot might factor into why, but Jack had said that they needed to be somewhere the Empty had touched the Earth or some cosmic shit like that in order to go back. That was why he now stood where he had when Cas had—

“You won’t have a lot of time,” Jack warned from where he sat on the table, legs swinging gently. “The Shadow…it should be asleep now that it has Cas, but it would keep him close. If it catches you, there’s nothing I can do." He worried his lip. “You’ll…You’ll be lost forever.”

“Awesome.”

“Dean, this is too big of a risk to take. Just give us a few more—”

“Days? Weeks? Sam, it’s already been two months.” _Two months up here, who knows how long there._ “I’m not letting him rot in there another day if I can help it.”

“Please be careful, Dean,” Jack mumbled.

Dean looked at him, thrown off by the softness of his voice. Jack avoided his gaze and fidgeted, oddly childlike for a cosmic being. Of course, he was only just three.

“C’mere, kid.” Dean opened his arms and instantly Jack was in them, clinging to him. He had already lost one dad; Dean wasn’t going to let him lose another. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him home.”

Jack buried his face in the rough twill of Dean’s jacket, which still bore the imprint of Castiel’s final farewell, before Sam’s hand fell on his shoulder and he let go.

“Are you ready?” he asked, face still full of concern.

“Let’s do this.”

Sam started chanting a spell—Dean still thought that was so cool, his little brother was a witch—as he threw various dried herbs that Dean didn’t recognize into a bowl. With a pop, it caught fire and purple smoke crept out and around Dean, enveloping him completely for a heartbeat before dissipating.

“Well, how do I look?”

“Invisible. To cosmic beings at least,” Jack offered.

“Perfect. It should last eight hours our time, but it doesn’t do anything for noise so you’re going to have to—”

“Tread softly and carry a big stick?” Dean scoffed as he set the timer on his watch. “Yeah, got it. Your turn, Jack.”

With a snap of his fingers, Jack created a doorway in the brick wall of the dungeon where Cas and Billie had disappeared.

Without a second of hesitation, Dean stepped through the doorway and into the Empty.

The moment the door closed, Dean realized he was in over his head. His eyes could make out nothing ahead of him, and his flashlight barely cut into the gloom. He would have to go by sound.

“Cas?” he whispered. “Castiel?”

The words didn’t even echo. It was like they were absorbed by the air itself. Everything was empty. There was no sensation. No light, no sound, no motion. Dean could barely tell if there was an up or a down, or if the floor he walked on was real. Maybe Sam had been right about doing more research, but this was a place where one could go mad.

Castiel was in here, somewhere, and Dean wasn’t going to leave without him.

Dean kept moving, unnerved by the unending lack of _anything_. If he strained, he could make out the tap of his shoes against the floor, but that was all. There was one thought stuck in his mind, one confession playing over and over as he walked.

In the pitch of the Empty, he could see Castiel in front of him, offering himself up one last time. By pushing Dean to safety, he had told Dean again that he deserved to be saved, yet Dean had never told him the same. Why hadn’t he done that? He had shown it (or tried to) over the years, like when he had stayed in purgatory and fought tooth and nail for a year to save him, or when he remained adamant that despite Cas’ choice to allow Lucifer to possess him, Castiel’s safety was a higher priority, but Dean had never said it. What if Castiel hadn’t understood?

For over a decade now, Dean had worried about their communication. He wasn’t especially good at vocalizing, and Castiel came from Heaven, which might as well be another planet. They spoke the same language, but how different were their meanings? With most things, Dean wasn’t too terribly concerned. They could discuss a case, or a movie, and he could be confident that they understood each other.

Feelings were different. They were part of that universal human experience Sam had talked about for some high school book report. They couldn’t be defined by words, only by living them.

For a while, Castiel _had_ lived them, after the Fall, Dean had dared to hope that maybe he would understand. When they had met in Rexford for the Rit Zien case, it had seemed like Castiel _was_ finally starting to understand. Then he had become an angel again, and all that progress vanished, at least from Dean’s perspective. There was only so much Castiel could have felt, much less fully understood, in the under six months he was human, and the difference between human and angelic understanding was the problem.

Then there was Castiel’s proclamation, the big _“I love you.”_

What did that mean, to an angel? Was it romantic? Platonic? Remotely the same as human love? Dean didn’t know the answer, and the only one who did was lost somewhere in this quagmire of darkness.

_“Cas? You got your ears on?”_

Dean knew his feelings, even if he couldn’t vocalize them. Not yet at least. Not here.

_“Where are you? Please, help me find you.”_

Dean wasn’t sure prayer worked in the Empty. He could feel its hunger. Just as purgatory had wanted to reveal your true self, just at hell wanted to break you, this place wanted nothing more than to gag and eat you. It swallowed everything else, it seemed. What would stop it from taking on prayer next?

Something must have gone through, or maybe he just wanted it badly enough, because Dean felt a pull in his chest. He didn’t know how much longer he kept walking, but the pull grew with every step.

He started to pass figures. All were slumped on the floor in various states of disarray. Some writhed in the throes of nightmares while others remained as still as marble sculptures decorating a sepulcher. All were unconscious.

Ahead, Dean made out a faint, dark figure and froze. It didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, and but it looked familiar. He drew closer and the prone figure became recognizable even before he could make out the tan of the trenchcoat.

There was his angel.

Dean felt a rush of relief and affection and pure giddiness course through his veins as he ran the short distance to Castiel. He stopped a few places short, just to be certain that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Castiel was here on the ground, mere steps away. His face was slack and his eyes were closed, but when Dean finally built up the nerve to touch him, he was solid and real.

“Cas!” Dean shook him and his eyes opened slowly. Dean was so relieved that he kneeled and hugged him, not realizing until Cas was in his arms that the angel wasn’t reciprocating. Dean let him go and Castiel allowed himself to fall limply back to the floor. He could see now that Cas’ eyes were dull and vacant.

“Buddy? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Quit toying with me,” Castiel said roughly. “You wanted me to sleep, let me sleep.”

“Cas, what the hell. Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“You’re not real.”

“Cas—” _Not real? What does that even mean?_ Dean’s mind ran rampant. Of everything he had worried about, in all of his nightmares, this had never come up. “I’m real. _We’re real._ Please, Cas.”

Castiel scoffed. “You’ve said that before. I’m not going to fall for it again.”

Again? Dean felt sick at the implication of that and reached out to touch him, to convince him that he was really there to rescue him, but Castiel shoved him, hard, and took off running further into the darkness. “Cas, wait!”

When Dean finally caught up, Castiel was asleep once more. He risked a quick glance at his watch—only a few hours left. If Castiel took off again or if anything happened, the spell would fall and they would never get out in time.

“Cas, wake up!” He was silent for a long minute to ensure his noise was the only noise, but Castiel didn’t stir. He tried again. “Hey! Cas!”

Something in the darkness moved.

Dean didn’t see it or hear it, but he knew without question that he was no longer alone.

_“Cas, buddy, I’m here. I’m here to bring you home. But I can’t do it without your help.”_

It slithered closer but Dean still wasn’t sure from where. He was running out of time.

_“You gotta wake up for me. Come on, Cas!”_

Dean could feel the hair on the back of his neck prick up. Whatever it was, it was behind him.

_It’s alright, you’re invisible. Just keep silent and it’ll keep going._

It didn’t.

Dean could feel it behind him, unmoving, and slowly turned around to see the outline of a tall, vaguely human shape though distinctly inhuman in every other regard. It took his form, a perfect replica of Dean Winchester, and shook Castiel’s shoulders. He didn’t stir this time. It called Cas’ name heartbrokenly and circled him a few times to no result before smugly settling down and sleeping near enough that Dean could still make out the outline. So _that_ was what Castiel meant.

Heart pounding, Dean did the only thing he could think of: he picked Castiel up and carefully made his way beyond the strewn figures back into the emptiness. The figure didn’t follow, or didn’t seem to, but now Dean could feel the time crunch. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he didn’t get Castiel out before the Shadow woke up.

Beyond the field of figures, Dean felt safe enough to stop and set Cas down.

“Cas?” He slapped at his cheek a little, feeling dread rise within him as Castiel kept sleeping. Dean didn’t want to be the one to do this; he didn’t want to be the one to remove Cas’ grace and drag him back down to humanity. It should be Castiel’s choice, his own conscious decision instead of an action taken by necessity. There was nothing else to do though: Jack had made it clear that the Empty would never stop coming for Castiel as an angel. He couldn’t even pass through the portal. That knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

Dean made a thin slice on Castiel’s neck, wincing even though Cas didn’t stir. The grace went easily into a simple little vial on a chain, and it struck Dean how simple it was to make an angel fall. The loss of grace, that bright little spark of energy, was truly all that set angels and humans apart, in a sense. Without it, Castiel bled, and Dean wiped a smear of it away before bandaging the cut. The necklace he slipped over his head and tucked under his shirt. He was surprised he could feel its power through the vial. Grace was a strange sensation: a warm buzz tingling throughout his skin, much like being sated or tipsy. A comfort. He had taken that from Castiel, even if there was no other choice.

With Castiel in his arms and grace around his neck, Dean started the long trek back to the Bunker.

_“Jack, I’ve got him.”_

_“He won’t… I can’t get him to wake up.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on _that_ note, I will see you on Monday!


	6. You Saved Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is back, but maybe Dean didn't save enough. Maybe he couldn't save the most important part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Come back come back come back. Come back because I need you so. And you do not need me and why should you come back... Only because I want you and need you…  
> 
> 
> – Martha Gellhorn, from _Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn_

The glow of grace faded as Dean stepped through the doorway and back into the bright bunker. Cas’ grace, though safe around Dean’s neck, was gone. He was human, maybe permanently, unless they could find another way to keep him safe. Dean grieved for a moment for how Castiel had been. He grieved the choice that Castiel hadn’t gotten to make. It was a steep price to pay, but he hoped that Cas understood. He hoped Cas could forgive them.

Sam and Jack were still waiting on the other side of the door and rushed towards them as Dean stumbled through the doorway, Jack quickly closing it behind them. Sam lifted the invisibility spell on him as Dean laid Castiel on the table, and Jack pressed his fingers against Cas’ temples.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dean asked impatiently as Jack’s golden glow vanished, his own stress starting to rise.

“I… I don’t know.”

Dean could see fear on Jack’s face and tried to soften the rigidity of his body and his voice. Jack was just a kid; Dean could be calm for him. “It’s okay, Jack, we’ll figure it out,” he promised, though his worry increased. What did it mean if the new _God_ didn’t know?

“Maybe he just needs to rest?” Sam suggested, ever level-headed. Dean could see the fear lingering in his eyes as well, but he also kept it hidden for Jack’s sake. “Losing his grace had to have taken a toll, right? Maybe he’ll just sleep it off, and in the meantime, we can look for ways to wake him.”

No one had a better idea.

Sam made sure Jack came with him to research. Better to keep the kid occupied than let him worry. Dean took Castiel to room 15 on his own. He set him on his bed, made sure he would be comfortable, draped a blanket over him. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Castiel was just taking a nap, yet it set Dean on edge. He didn’t know what it was, but something felt off. Wrong.

Cas’ room was quiet and empty. _Too empty_ , Dean thought to himself. After more than ten years, all Castiel had were the clothes on his back and a handful of possessions, mostly of utility. That might have suited an angel, but Castiel was human sans grace, wasn’t he? Even if that grace still rested against Dean’s chest. When he woke up, Dean would take him to get things of his own. They could make a day of it if Cas wanted. If he woke up.

Dean started worrying again.

Miracle helped a little bit when she found her way in. She curled up at Dean’s feet and begged to have her belly scratched, which was a fairly good distraction. Still, she left when Jack called her for a walk, and Dean instead occupied his hands by holding Cas’. They were solid and Dean squeezed one.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean breathed. “You made it through this before, remember? Waking up should be the easy part.”

Castiel didn’t respond.

Sam came in after a while and found them together like that. Dean had slumped forward onto the bed, but his hand was still entwined with Cas’ as he slept. The younger Winchester’s expression was soft as he woke his brother.

“Wha…?”

“Go to bed, Dean. You’ve both had a long day.”

“Wha’ if he wakes up?” Dean asked, using his free hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “I don’t wan’ him to wake up alone.”

“I’ll stay with him.”

Dean looked beyond Sam over to the doorway where the voice had come from. Jack. Miracle, too. He was dressed in a pair of Star Wars pajamas that Cas had gotten him for his birthday, though Dean figured their kid didn’t need to sleep anymore.

After a beat of hesitation, Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand one last time before letting him go and standing. Jack made his way over to where Dean had been as Dean made his way to the door.

“Wake me up if anything changes,” he told the room, and then he went to bed. His room was close enough to Cas’ that after a few minutes, he could hear Jack’s soft “Hello” and some of the stories he told Castiel. Part of Dean found it ironic: a child telling a parent bedtime stories and fairytales late in the night, but most of him just found it sad. It shouldn’t have been like this. He fell asleep to the rising and falling lilt of Jack’s voice.

The next day, Dean slept until almost noon. When he stuck his head in to check on Cas, he saw that Jack was still there, no longer in pajamas, and that Miracle had curled up by Cas’ legs and was sleeping soundly.

“The hell’d you let me sleep so long for?”

“Sam said you hadn’t been getting enough lately,” Jack said without looking up. “I thought it’d be best.”

“I never get enough, no reason to start sleeping in now.”

“There’s every reason. You’re not a machine, Dean.”

Dean’s heart dropped as Jack’s gaze fell on him. He looked so much like Cas, and now it seemed that they both saw through him with ease. It wasn’t too long ago he remembered Castiel saying the same exact thing.

“You’re finally free. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You can…do whatever you want, like sleep in or have an…apple pie life.” He said the words carefully, as though he didn’t know what they meant. It was a strange mix of childlike innocence and cosmic omniscience.

Dean’s silence was heavy.

Jack turned back to Castiel and told Dean, “Go eat. I’ll still be here.”

Miracle left with him, so he got out her food first. He made pancakes for himself. For a moment, he considered making some bacon, but bacon was celebratory, and though he had brought Castiel back, he felt far from celebrating.

Was this how Cas had felt, all those years ago when he brought Sam back? He had rescued him, certainly, but not his soul. Dean was starting to wonder, more and more, if maybe he had left something crucial in the Empty as well. Maybe he had been too hard on him, too harsh over the years—no, he definitely had. Castiel’s heart was always in the right place; he always tried to do the right thing. It wasn’t his fault that it always came around to bite him in the ass.

The pancakes sat like lead in his stomach after that, but Miracle was right on his heels. Dean caught a glimpse of Sam in the library, bent over a thick book with his phone plastered to his ear in an animate conversation. He didn’t have the energy to find out what was going on, so he circled back to Cas’ room.

“Hey, kid. You want to take her for a walk?”

A slow smile slipped on his kid’s face, and Jack left the room speaking brightly to Miracle. Dean didn’t know who was more excited for their walk.

“Hey, Cas,” he greeted, lacing their fingers together as he took a seat. Unsurprisingly, there was no response.

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Jack’s kinda the new God.” Dean let out a breathless chuckle. “Who would have thought? Us parenting God. But, uh, turns out you were right. About him, and his destiny.”

Dean tore his eyes up to Cas’ face, still slack and sleepy.

“Just wish you were here to see it.”

There was nothing to say for a few minutes and Dean started to drown in his grief and heartache. It didn’t matter if Jack was God, he still didn’t have the power to fix this. All the power in the world—no, all the power in _creation_ —and he couldn’t wake Castiel.

“I need you. Cas, please. Come back to me.”

What hope could Dean have?

“Cas…” Dean caressed his cheek, barely holding back tears. “Please wake up.”

Castiel didn’t stir, and Dean buried his face among the blankets alongside him and sobbed.

“You love him.”

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes damp and throat constricted from grief. Jack stood in the doorway with a tray of food. Had so much time already passed?

“I was talking to Sam and…” Jack stepped in and put the tray on the table by Dean. “He told me that you and Cas have a profound bond.” Jack perched himself on the corner of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. “And I was there when Cas made his deal, to…to save me. He made me promise not to tell you, or Sam. He didn’t want you to worry, or me.”

Dean felt an emptiness settle inside of him. That did sound like Cas.

“He was at peace with his choice, Dean.” Jack’s gaze shifted to Castiel, seemingly still at peace. “He just thought he would have more time.”

“More time,” Dean echoed. “He thought he wouldn’t be happy for longer.” Jack nodded and Dean fell back into despising himself. “He told me he loved me, Jack. He said that his happiness was in just saying it, even if I didn’t reciprocate.”

“Sam said, or he guessed as much.”

“He guessed that I that got Cas killed?”

“No.” Jack shifted, his gaze sharpening as though he would stare into Dean’s very soul. “Do you think that?”

“Well, yeah. He died saving me. And you said it yourself, he thought he would have longer. It was my idea to come back here. Billie came after me. And Cas… I couldn’t stop it, Jack. The Empty just came out of nowhere and…”

Jack’s eyes were soft and far too knowledgeable for a three-year-old. “You think that this is your fault.”

“Don’t you?” Dean shot back. “I got your dad killed. My best friend.”

“Do you still blame me for the first time he went to the Empty? When I was born?”

Dean startled at the question. “What? No, of course not. Lucifer killed him. You were just a kid. It was too much and I was angry and grieving.”

“Like you are now.”

Words caught in Dean’s throat.

“The way I see it, Dean, you didn’t kill him. You saved him.”

A spark caught in Jack’s eye and he shifted into a cross-legged position before continuing. “Cas was happy enough, before. None of this takes away from our memories with him. But confessing to you, that was being honest and true to himself. He was able to be accept himself and be happy _with himself_ for the first time in… ever. You helped him to get there.”

“I…”

“And now, you got him out of the Empty. You _saved him_ , Dean. And when he wakes up, he’ll be able to finally live however he wants. He’ll be free, just like you.”

“Jack, he was never under Chuck’s control,” Dean said, softly.

“No, he was under his own.” Jack looked between Castiel and Dean fervently. “He was afraid, he…you heard Chuck, he hated himself…and admitting that he loved you, that’s what set him free. He finally allowed himself to be happy.”

Jack beamed at him, and Dean felt dizzy. He looked back to Castiel, still sleeping, and found a new appreciation. Was all of that true?

“Wait. You said _when_ he wakes up. Did you find something?”

“Not yet,” Jack admitted. “But Sam and I have faith in you. And so does Cas.”

Jack offered him another bright look and squeezed Cas’ hand for a moment before heading out into the hallway, leaving Dean alone with Castiel and overwhelmed.

To calm himself, Dean mindlessly ran a hand through Cas’ hair. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face. He had an idea. He planted a kiss on Castiel’s forehead and ran out to the library to explain.

“You want to go into his head?” Sam repeated.

“Yeah!”

“Dean, we have no way of knowing if that would work.”

“It worked to wake you up, when Ezekiel was calling the shots. And when Mom was brainwashed, and when Michael buried me in my head,” Dean listed. “Why not for Cas?”

“We were all completely human.”

“Cas _is_ completely human now, right kid?”

Jack nodded carefully. Dean hadn’t missed how he had flinched at the mention of Mary, but now wasn’t the time to address that.

“Alright, we had Crowley for me, that British woman for Mom, and Cas for you. We’re already batting zero here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sammy.” Dean grinned, feeling more certain with every moment. “We have a witch in training, the new God, and a guy who’s been to the Empty and back.”

His smile grew wider and infected the other two even as Sam groaned. “I think we can figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Tumblr user [PromptsForYourWhumpFic](https://promptsforyourwhumpfic.tumblr.com) for [Prompt #514](https://promptsforyourwhumpfic.tumblr.com/post/637177587327762432/whump-prompt-514), which is what started this all.


	7. How Much He's Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns more about Castiel through his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > I haunt their dreams. _Do not leave_ , I beg them. _Not until you have given me peace_. But if anyone hears, they do not answer.
> 
> – Madeline Miller, from _The Song of Achilles_

With a clear direction of where to go, it took them less than a day to get everything together and decided. Jack would use his powers to let Dean into Cas’ mind, but he would be on his own after that. Sam stood by with approximately three spells ready to go if something went wrong and it was decided that Dean would pray to Jack as soon as he was in so that they knew they could still communicate and when he had Castiel. If Jack couldn’t hear the prayer, he and Sam would pull Dean out after 8 hours.

While it went largely unspoken, Dean could see concern lingering in both Sam and Jack’s eyes as they stood by Cas’ bed. To be perfectly honest, he too felt a shard of fear lodged deep in his chest. If this didn’t work, what else was there to do? Worse than that, what if Castiel was gone? Dean didn’t know how the Empty worked, but in Hell, you lost parts of yourself until you were a shell of who you had been. What if that had happened to Castiel?

Dean remembered what Hell had made him. He had been broken beyond repair, barely human anymore after four topside months or forty years down below. But Castiel had done it. Cas had put him back together, and he was still kicking. But two topside months in the void of the Empty…he didn’t want to think of what it could have done to Castiel. With strange certainty, he promised to himself that he would do the same. No matter what had happened or how broken he might be, Dean would be there to help piece him back together.

“Dean?”

Dean’s head snapped up from the expressionless face of his best friend to his brother and son. There was too much to say, so they left it unsaid, settling instead for “Bring him home.”

Dean laid next to Castiel on the bed, slipped his hand into Cas’, and gave it a squeeze. He nodded to Jack, who pressed two fingers to each of their foreheads, eyes glowing golden. It was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

At first, Dean thought his eyes were closed, but a few moments later realized that no matter how much he strained, he couldn’t make anything out. It was like the Empty was somehow inside Cas’ mind, though Dean wasn’t sure how that worked. He was going to drag Castiel out of this darkness if it was the last thing he did. After sending a quick prayer, he started wandering deeper into the pitch.

Unlike the Empty, Cas’ mind felt somber. There had been something predatory about the former, but the latter was someplace Dean might have felt safe if not for the circumstances. He kept walking in the same direction, feeling something warm in his gut, a sensation he could trust.

For the first time, Dean came across something—a flickering orange flame. The brightness was distracting, but only for a moment. Dean could hear distorted screams—no, wails—and felt fear touch his core. He didn’t know where he was, but sand hit his skin and a smell like burning metal consumed his senses. He was facing a door, splashed in blood, and then he turned. Behind him towered…a being. Tall, with six wings and hundreds of eyes everywhere, circled by rings of fire and metal. It reached out with a humanoid hand and for a moment Dean thought it reached for him, felt static crackling through the air and making his hair stand on end, until its hands reached up to what Dean could only assume was its head, its many eyes closing all at once as though it was in distress. Another being of the same type appeared out of nowhere and dragged it away. Just as quickly, they both vanished and Dean was thrust back into the pitch, breathing hard. 

What the hell was that?

Carefully, Dean stood again and reached out as though he would wind up back where he had been, but nothing happened.

In the distance, he could see another light. This one was white. He stepped into it much more hesitantly.

He was in a clearing now. Trees stood on one side and a large yellow house on the other. He could see a small cluster of people outside and soon was close enough to hear a woman screaming. A figure walked out of the house, a man in a tan suit. A flock of three women in pastel dresses followed him as he headed down the path leading away while two others, a man and a woman, doubled back into the house. Dean moved a little closer in order to find out what they were saying.

“The others will stay behind to return the bodies to Heaven,” the man promised, and the women nodded. Dean’s brow furrowed. Heaven? So, they were angels, but how did he know that voice?

“How could Akobel have betrayed Heaven in such a manner? Fathering a nephil is forbidden. How could he know and still disobey?” the woman in a green dress asked.

“It is the fault of the humans,” a woman in red answered, nearly sneering.

“Now, now Mirabel,” the man offered. “Weakness is to blame as well. If one is not careful, they are as much a danger to us as we are to them.”

Mirabel? Where had he heard that name before?

“They corrupt us,” the man continued, pointedly stopping and turning to face the woman in green. “Human emotions are a weakness. They were not meant for us to experience.”

The woman in the green dress looked away and the others shared a look before suddenly springing. The others grabbed her arms and held her in place while the one called Mirabel recited, “Castiel, seraph of the fourth garrison, you have begun to express emotion. You are weak, and you are relieved of your post on Earth.”

“No, I—”

“I saw your face when the abomination was killed,” the woman in blue retorted. “You had doubt. You wavered in your faith and wanted to protect the nephil.”

“Benjamin, please, I—”

“Relax, Castiel,” said the man Dean now recognized as Ishim. “We’re not going to kill you.”

Cas’ face paled, almost as if that would be preferable.

“You’re being sent back. They’re going to help you. Restore your faith. Then, maybe, you can return to us.”

Castiel shook his head violently, backing away. The hat pinned to his hair came loose and fell down into the dewy grass. The others paid no mind.

“This is for your own good,” Ishim promised, cradling Cas’ terrified face with both hands. Benjamin and Mirabel held Cas in place as they chanted what Dean recognized as Enochian until light burst forth from the vessel. Dean watched as Castiel broke one arm free and drew an angel blade. He raised it against Ishim, but as it came down, the Enochian took effect, and he was removed from his vessel in a burst of white light. Ishim wrenched the blade down and into the woman’s torso. She screamed for a moment, no longer possessed as her blood stained the green dress.

“Ah, Castiel,” Ishim tsked, wiping the angel blade on the dress of the dead woman. “You shouldn’t have been so careless with your vessel.”

Dean stumbled backwards, horrified. The darkness consumed him once again, almost soothingly. It was better than whatever he had just seen. What had it—Was it a memory? That…that had been Castiel— _his_ Castiel—and the others that had killed Lily Sunder’s daughter. It _had_ to be a memory.

Had that…creature been Castiel too? Now that he thought about it, the sand, the blood, the screaming, and angels…that had been Egypt, hadn’t it? The plagues, death of the firstborn. Castiel had been there.

Dean felt dizzy thinking about it all: how old and other Castiel was, everything he had seen in his incredibly long life. And yet…

_The one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have._

Despite everything he had seen over billions of years, everything he had experienced, he wanted to be with Dean?

The next memory was a field of bees. Castiel wore an outfit Dean recognized as being from the psych ward, but he was happy. He was sitting among wildflowers, talking to insects, and smiling brightly as they seemed to respond. His hair was wild and windswept, his id bracelet threaded with flowers. It was the first time Dean remembered seeing Castiel so happy, so free, without anything hanging over his head. He wasn’t dealing with all of the trauma that had built up over his billion-year life, or the guilt of what he had done to Heaven, the war. This was Castiel at peace, and Dean didn’t have the heart to disturb him.

The sunshine shifted into cold white light and all of that guilt and trauma was back post-purgatory. All Dean could hear were screams. Castiel was strapped down to a patient chair, like Dean had seen at a doctor’s or dentist’s, and Naomi loomed over him with a drill.

“Hold still.”

Dean ran to stop her even as the drill sank deep into the corner of Castiel’s eye and he screamed. Dean grabbed her arm and felt the vibrations throughout himself, but he couldn’t do anything to stop her. He was a projection inside a memory, dammit, he was useless.

The memory faded and changed like static, presumably as Naomi worked, and for a second, Dean caught a glimpse of a warehouse floor covered in hundreds of bodies – no, just one and it was _him_ – but even as it cleared, Castiel was still trapped and suffering.

“This is the right thing. Let it work.”

“Please,” Castiel gasped, blood dripping down his face like tears should have.

“You are broken, Castiel. And I am going to fix you.”

Dean couldn’t watch as the drill sank back in and half-ran to get to the next memory. No matter what he did, he couldn’t block out the screams. Just before he got out, Dean heard one last thing: _Kill Dean Winchester._

The silence and emptiness were deafening after that, and Dean thought he would be sick. The next memory waited patiently, but Dean doubted his ability to get through it. Castiel’s screams rang in his ears; the image of his eyes wide with pain and filled with blood was permanently seared into his brain. Still, he owed it to Castiel to find him, to get through all this. If Castiel could live it, Dean could make it through the memories.

The next memory was dark. Dean could feel rain kissing his skin and looked up. It was night, and he was in a cold alleyway among apartments. He turned, looking for someone he knew had to be here somewhere and his breath stopped.

Castiel looked so small huddled against the wall. He was drenched by the rain and shivering, obviously human.

Dean understood now, why when April came out and offered him somewhere to stay for the night, Cas went with her. He was trusting as a human, the first go-around at least. Maybe that was why it had hit him so much harder when Dean had forced him to go.

Dean left. He knew how this ended, and it ended with Cas dead, hands tied behind a chair. He didn’t need to see it happen again.

He wandered through the memory of a movie night just as quickly. He was there for it, every moment, even though he hadn’t noticed Castiel slipping a coded message into Jack’s hand. Dean didn’t have the time to see it all again. He could feel himself getting closer to the center of this labyrinth, and he wanted to get Cas out.

Dean was about to hurry through the next one when he realized that he didn’t recognize it. He was in the Bunker, that was certain, but where was everyone? He wandered only a little before he found his brother unconscious on a bed in the infirmary.

“Sam? Sammy?”

He shook him, only to be reminded, once again, that there was nothing he could do. _This is a memory,_ he reminded himself. _Sam is fine._

He jumped as Eileen walked past him and over to his brother at the same time as Castiel walked in.

“Dean isn’t answering,” he both spoke and signed.

Dean blinked. He didn’t know Castiel could sign. Not that fluently at least.

“I called a friend, Sergei – well, he’s not a friend, but he owes me. He should be here shortly.”

“Can’t you heal him?” Eileen asked.

Castiel looked to Sam for a moment. “My grace is failing. I’m afraid I’m not quite as useful as I once was.”

“Bullshit.”

Castiel shrugged, clearly not about to change his mind.

“Why does your friend owe you?”

“He hurt someone close to us,” he replied. “We had… His name was Jack.”

“Is he okay now?” Eileen asked, her eyes betraying that she knew, deep down, where this was going.

“He survived what Sergei did but… He was sick, and we lost him a few days later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We got him back again for a little while,” Castiel said softly. “Things were okay. We were a family; he was good for us and I like to think we were good for him.”

“How did you get him back?”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter much now,” Castiel replied. “I made a deal…”

Dean turned away and blocked it out. He didn’t want to be confronted by it again, and the pain of everything that had happened. He wanted to cling to reality, where he and Jack had started making amends. They solved codes together and watched Disney movies and even had a dog for fuck’s sake. Everything had changed, and Castiel didn’t know. He didn’t know how they had all changed, and if Dean didn’t get him out, he never would.

Castiel sighed. “I’m not welcome here anymore, after everything.”

The memory collapsed and Dean found himself in the dark, alone. Was this how Cas had felt when he left the Bunker? This nagging, out-of-place feeling... Dean knew where to go, he could see it, but he didn’t have the power to make it there. He was afraid of what he would find and how he would be received. After everything Dean had seen, _did_ Cas want to be saved?

There was only one way to find out.

As Dean looked at the amber light ahead, he knew he had reached the end. Cas was there. Deep in a memory, waiting, he was there. Without hesitation, he stepped in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Rubi](https://theangelwiththewormstache.tumblr.com) for [the idea of Castiel confiding in Eileen](https://theangelwiththewormstache.tumblr.com/post/637364247650828288/imagine-if-season-15-had-a-cas-centric-episode).
> 
> Note on Cas' pronouns for the female vessel: I rationalized it as 12x10 "Benjamin is an angel, his vessel is a woman" and kept male pronouns for Cas since he's been shown to use them. Sorry if they read as a little jarring :(
> 
> Also, I feel so bad to have killed a woman from Supernatural, and I did it to reveal a male villain to and further a male storyline which makes it even worse, I'm so sorry please forgive me I promise there's some saileen content next chapter to help make up for it


	8. Free To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has found Castiel, but what if he doesn't want to wake up?
> 
> ***Released early in anticipation of the virtual convention. Next chapter will be up Monday at 5pm EST as per usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Heart, 
>> 
>> I implore you, 
>> 
>> it’s time to 
>> 
>> come back 
>> 
>> from the 
>> 
>> dark.
> 
> – Mary Oliver, excerpt of “Summer Morning,” from _Red Bird_

The warm lighting of the Bunker washed over Dean. He was…he was _home?_

At first, Dean thought he was alone. Standing up at the top of the stairwell, looking down into the library below, he saw nothing. The halls were empty and cold, so he stepped forwards into the library. Each shelf of books was just like they were in real life, and each little nook between them was empty except—

“Cas!”

He was here. He was here and alive in his own head, holed up with a book. Dean ran across the library up to him, ready to hug him tightly and bring him home, but Castiel didn’t even look up. Dean stopped in his tracks.

“Cas?” Nothing. “No, no, no.”

This was Cas. This was the _real Cas_ , he was sure, and Dean couldn’t interact with him? He still couldn’t be heard? He still couldn’t change anything?

“Cas?”

Dean and Cas both looked up, only to see…Dean.

“I’m gonna go on a supply run. Wanna come?” other Dean asked, jingling the impala’s keys.

“Not yet. I have to finish this message for Jack.” Castiel held up a book, _Ciphers for Kids._ “It uses a different alphabet.”

“What, like Greek or something?”

“No, it’s your alphabet. The letters are simply in a different order. Maybe I’ll use another language next time.”

Other Dean whistled. “I’m sure he’ll have a blast with that.”

“With what?”

“Sorry, kid,” other Dean told Jack, clearly back from a walk. “Might have just made your next code harder.”

Jack looked anything but disappointed to hear that.

“Since _someone’s_ too busy, wanna go to the store with me?”

“Sure!”

“We’ll be back,” other Dean promised as he and Jack headed to the garage.

“Can I drive?” Jack asked just as the door swung shut behind them.

Dean – the _real_ Dean – was at a loss. He didn’t remember this at all. Hell, he didn’t know that Castiel knew what ciphers were, let alone wrote them, until a few weeks ago. This couldn’t be a memory, but then what was it? It wasn't real.

“Cas?” he tried again, still to no result.

Sam and Eileen came in at that moment, laughing and dizzily in love. They came to a stop by one of the center tables and started putting on their jackets. Eileen caught Cas’ gaze over Sam’s shoulder, and Castiel set down his book.

“Ask,” he signed, bringing down the hook of his finger with an easy smile on his face.

“Maybe,” she replied with a conspiratorial smile once her coat was on. Her gaze shifted up to Sam.

“Ready?”

“Of course.”

“We’ll be back in a little bit,” Sam promised Castiel. “Tell Dean not to wait up for dinner.”

Castiel simply nodded and went back to his book, still looking back up long enough to give Eileen a thumbs-up once Sam had turned away again.

“Sammy?” Dean called out, only to realize that Sam couldn’t hear him either. The pair ducked out the garage door and Dean sighed in frustration. So, he couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone so far. That was just peachy.

Dean looked back to Castiel, deep in his book, and to the message on the table beside him. He picked the paper up, grateful that he could interact with it, but if Castiel saw, he said nothing.

Dean was surprised that there was a list of messages on the page but was grateful that they weren’t encrypted yet.

_Jack,_

_There’s someone very special I would like you to meet. Her name is Charlie, and she likes Star Wars, too. She’ll be visiting in a few weeks, and she would love to see the costume you’re working on. I hope the two of you get along together._

_Love, Cas_

A few lines down, there was a second of a similar nature.

_Jack,_

_There’s someone else you should get to know. In March, we’re going up to Jody’s for a few days for a pie festival, and Jody has four girls. You remember Kaia, the girl you helped to save from the other universe, right? She’ll be there, and so will a girl named Claire. She’s a little rough around the edges like Dean, but I think you two might get along._

_Love, Cas_

Dean set the paper down, even more confused. This couldn’t possibly be real.

He sank into the chair next to Castiel, the same arrangement they had when they shared a drink together, and watched at the other him came back in with Jack. Was time different here?

“I drove!”

“That he did,” other Dean said, walking by with bags in his hands on his way to the kitchen. “And he bought seven dollars worth of nougat.”

“Would you like some?”

“Sure, Jack,” Castiel replied with an easy smile. “Thank you.”

As Castiel took the nougat, the other Dean came back, somehow now without the bags, and took a seat at the library table. Jack was quick to follow, and he slid into his seat just as the door opened to reveal Sam and Eileen, still bright and happy.

“Hey, guys. You missed dinner.”

Dean squinted at the other him. When had dinner happened? Off camera?

“Well, we have news,” Eileen replied.

They shared a quick loving glance.

“We’re engaged,” Sam announced, and the room filled with congratulations, even from Castiel himself.

It was like a play, Dean realized. Everything was made up of scenes and everyone simply jumped to the next one. Everyone except Cas, watching it all with fondness. In this story, he had cast himself as the audience, content to watch forever.

Dean could understand his interest in watching. It was nice to not be involved in the messiness of life for a little while, and he himself enjoyed this…fantasy where things were, well, damn near perfect. Everyone was free to just be, with no conflict or worry.

_Happiness is in the just being._

Hell, maybe this was why Castiel watched him sleep and dream for all these years. In dreams, the good ones at least, that was what he did. He let himself simply _be_ , no fronts or masking how he felt. He let himself go with the flow of things, didn’t push too hard because things always worked out in the end. But there was a difference between watching and partaking. Castiel needed to wake up and live.

As if on cue, Sam and Eileen left, heading off in the direction of Sam’s room. Jack gave Cas a hug before going to his room. Dean—the other Dean—patted Cas’ shoulder for a minute before he, too, went off to bed.

It was only now, alone in the library, that Castiel sighed and closed his book, placing it on the table beside him before standing and starting to put away a short stack of pulled books on the table.

“Cas? Come on, man. Please hear me.”

Castiel turned on his heel before freezing and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. So, Cas _could_ hear him.

“It’s a nice place you have here,” he started. Castiel kept milling around, ignoring him, but Dean didn’t mind. He had time now, all the time in the world to say what he needed to.

“It’s warm, familiar…. Safe…. I get why you’re here, man. It’s a whole lot nicer than anything the Empty. Hell, it’s better than the memories I’ve seen. But you’ve gotta know it’s not real.”

The room flashed for a moment. The walls went static and lost their texture for a mere second, but Dean didn’t miss it. Castiel knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“In the real world, we brought you back. I went to the Empty for you. But you…you just won’t wake up. Maybe it’s all too much, reality…but we’re trying. Sam, and Jack, and I. We’ve been working on it for months, ever since you…ever since you died.”

Castiel closed a book in the silence and slid it back into its place on the shelf.

“I miss you, Cas. We all miss you. Please can you... Please wake up, man. I don’t know what to do without you.”

Once again, Dean had the striking feeling that he was running out of time. What if he couldn’t wake Cas?

“You know, Jack’s really taking after you,” he tried again. Castiel froze this time, and Dean took it as a sign. Maybe this was how to break through. “I mean, every day he reminds me more and more of you. Sometimes, he just has this look, you know? Like he knows too much. Then he’ll speak and you realize he can see right through you without even trying. Kinda like you did when we met in that barn in Illinois. When you told me how I don’t think I deserve to be saved.”

Castiel remained frozen where he was, barely breathing.

“You do, too, you know. You deserve to be saved. You deserve to be happy, and cared for, and alive, and loved.”

Dean circled Castiel and tried to catch his eyes, unsuccessfully. Dean hesitated for a moment. He had his difficulties coming to terms with Castiel’s confession, with the difference between a human and an angel, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized there was no difference. Castiel spoke from his heart, he always had. He was earnest and true and said what he felt with no qualms. And if he could speak his truth, so could Dean.

“I love you, too, Cas. You can have me. You always could have.” Dean paused to draw a breath. “Please come back. Stay with me.”

Castiel started to cry and Dean wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and wipe the tears away with the pad of his thumb. So, he did. Soon enough, Castiel was enveloped in his arms, holding him as though he would drown otherwise. Dean held him tighter.

“You’re here,” Cas whispered. “You’re _real_ and you’re _here_.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean mumbled into the trenchcoat. “Let’s go home.”

Around them, the bunker flickered a few times before it collapsed and vanished, leaving them standing in the cold emptiness between memories. It bit deeper than before, after so much time in the warmth and security of the fantasy. Dean felt Castiel shudder as he pulled away, but he wasn’t worried about it. Castiel had faced so much, so many hardships that Dean hadn’t even known about before entering his mind, but he was strong. He kept fighting. More than that, Cas had something to fight for: Jack, the Winchesters, love, his own agency... Castiel could make it out of his own mind.

Too deep in Cas’ mind for Jack to reach, they started back to where Dean had come in. In doing so, they passed by memory after memory: telling Eileen about his deal, movie night, his time as a human when all of the angels fell, the innumerable times that Naomi had stuck her drill in his head…

Castiel reacted to each one, but it wasn’t until seeing Naomi that he stopped moving.

“Cas? Hey, it’s just a memory.”

“Yeah,” Castiel replied, swallowing and tugging at his tie to loosen it. “I know… I…”

Dean could see his eyes growing distant, how he flinched at the echo of his own screams, how he looked ready to curl in on himself or bolt back to the fantasy he had created for himself. Anything to feel safe, anything to get away from this memory.

“Come on, Cas,” he murmured, taking hold of him as he started to tense up and tremble slightly and guiding him through. “We’re almost out.”

Castiel didn’t respond well to the cold, dark, _empty_ in-between after that.

The next memory was a good one, thankfully. They stayed in that field for a little while, surrounded by flowers and bees and brightness. Dean could feel the sunshine penetrating his skin and knew it had to be helping Castiel, too, as he brought his hands away from his ears, stopped wiping away blood that didn’t exist, in favor of toying with the stem of a wildflower. He came back to himself, bit by bit, until at last they could move on.

Dean could practically see the light at the end, even as they walked into the memory of the Sunders.

“I got her killed,” Castiel said softly, speaking for the first time since Naomi. His gaze was caught on the body of his female vessel, bloodstained and abandoned in the grass. “My questions…my doubts…”

“Ishim killed her,” Dean corrected firmly. “You had no way of knowing. You had no way of stopping him.” Castiel didn’t respond, he couldn’t move past it, so Dean caught his gaze. “Hey. This is not your fault, okay?”

Reluctantly, Castiel nodded, and they re-entered the space between memories.

This was it, Dean knew. The last memory. They were so close to making it out, so close to Castiel being alive and awake and free. Without hesitation, he and Castiel walked into it, the angelic forces long since gone. Fire still burned but dimly, and Dean got to talking before the guilt could weigh Cas down.

“Was that your true form then?”

“It’s _one_ of my forms,” Castiel corrected. “One has multiple animal heads, some of which you wouldn’t recognize. Another one is a beam of light and energy as tall as—”

“As tall as the Chrysler Building? Yeah, I remember,” Dean said, and Cas smiled at him gently. “What happened here? I get the plagues and all, but what happened to you?”

Castiel frowned deeply. “I don’t… I don’t remember very well, but we were ordered to kill innocents and I refused. At least then. You know what happened to May Sunder.” He kicked at a drift of sand and watched it collapse and disappear. “They took me away when they realized I wouldn’t do it and hurt me after that. I think it was the first time I saw Naomi, but I… I can’t be sure.”

“You did the right thing, you know. Even though it went against Heaven.”

“I never was a very good angel.”

“Maybe not. But you make a very good human.”

Castiel smiled at that, barely visible in the flickering light of a torch. It was a touch sad to acknowledge aloud but there was a glimmer of hope in Cas’ expression as well. Maybe now he would finally find his place.

“It’s time to wake up, Cas.”

“It is,” Castiel sighed, stepping out of the memory and back into the darkness. “I’m ready.”

Dean wrapped Castiel in a hug one final time within the safety of his mind. Then he sent a silent prayer to Jack and felt Castiel disappear within his arms before he himself followed suit. He came back to himself slowly, his whole body consumed by pins and needles that eventually retreated. He could feel Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“Cas?” It was barely even a whisper, laden with both hope and fear.

Castiel sleepily turned his head towards Dean’s voice and opened his eyes for a heartbeat before startling upright, his hand falling out of Dean’s. Jack was there, first to steady him and then to hug him, burrowing his face in Cas’ neck. Sam helped Dean up and for the first time he noticed Miracle had been curled up on his legs. She eagerly licked at his face and Dean turned away to avoid the worst of it, smiling until he saw Castiel.

Cas' eyes were huge and uncertain, seeing nothing and everything. He wasn’t just hugging back; he was clinging to Jack with an expression Dean recognized: he was overwhelmed, lost. Given the circumstances, who wouldn’t be?

“Sam.” He looked up to his brother and discretely nodded towards Cas. He saw comprehension flit across his face before nodding to the dog still in his lap. “Wanna help me get her out of here?”

“Yeah, course.” Sam whistled and after a final lick Miracle followed him out of the room.

 _“I’ll catch him up,”_ Dean heard Jack say in his head. _“There’s a lot he’s unsure about right now.”_

Dean nodded and stretched his stiff, half-numb legs before standing. Cas’ grace bounced against his chest and for a second he thought about giving it to Castiel.

_“No. Not yet.”_

Dean nodded again and Jack watched him leave. Castiel did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in reading the blocking / notes I had drafted for this chapter initially? I could have them as a 13th chapter or something, released whenever? Leave a comment and let me know!


	9. You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything, Dean can feel his fears and doubts resurfacing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > I thought I understood your longing – it looked so much like mine.
> 
> – Rebecca Lindenberg, excerpt of “Love, An Index,” from _Love, An Index_

It was six at night and Dean had yet to see Castiel since bringing him back. Jack was still in with him, Sam was updating their friends and thanking Rowena again, and Dean was… Well, Dean didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to see Cas; he wanted to touch him. Dean's hands yearned to stroke down an arm, to caress his face, to pat his back, anything to assure himself that Castiel was alright, that he was really here, and not just a figment of Dean’s grief-stricken imagination. He’d had enough of that, in nightmares and after purgatory. He longed for the warmth of skin on his own, for assurance.

But he couldn’t do that. It wasn't his turn just yet, and the door was closed. He couldn’t intrude, and who knew what Castiel was thinking, feeling…

Dean kept his hands busy by making burgers for dinner. It was a relief to pull out four plates, to know that everyone was safe and home. He sent a text to Cas and Jack, and to Sam.

Neither Castiel nor Jack showed up.

Hoping they had simply lost track of the time, Dean made his way to Cas’ room with their food. He knocked on the door, only to find that it wasn’t latched. The door swung open to reveal a dark and empty room.

_Shit._

Dean pulled on his jacket as he made his way to the library, where Sam was working on creating a better cataloguing and tagging system. His burger was on the table by him.

“Cas and Jack are gone.”

“Yeah, I think they took Miracle for a walk.”

“During dinner?”

“Dean, missing a meal isn’t too concerning given everything. They’ll be back in a while.”

Like clockwork, the door at the top of the stairs swung open and in walked Cas, Jack, and Miracle, all soaked and muddy.

“What the hell?”

“It started to rain on the way back,” Jack explained, shrugging off Cas’ trenchcoat and his own jacket to reveal a relatively dry t-shirt.

“What he means to say it that it started to _pour_ ,” Castiel said dryly, peeling off his blazer in turn, and hanging all of the wet garments at the top of the steps. Even at a distance, Dean could see water dripping off the dress shirt.

“It’s the middle of January, you guys are going to get sick.”

“No, we won’t,” Jack said confidently, just in time to get sprayed by water and mud as Miracle shook herself dry.

“Alright, you guys gotta get her cleaned up before you do anything else.”

“I’ll do it,” Jack said, scooping Miracle up in his arms and darting down the steps. It was almost comedic, how she kept licking his face and how big she looked in Jack’s arms. Cas followed behind them, shivering lightly. All Dean could think of was Castiel alone and drenched in that alleyway.

“Come on, Cas, I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”

“No, I’ll help with clean up.”

“Dude, you’re human now. Jack won’t freeze but you sure as hell will.”

They went down to Dean’s room first, and Dean quickly pulled together a few outfits, enough to last Cas a few days until they went shopping. Then they crossed the hall to Cas’ room, where he started putting them away.

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and was about to step out to let Cas get changed when he felt the chain of the grace necklace. It was Castiel’s, and he wanted to return it.

“This is yours,” Dean said, taking off the necklace and holding it out.

Castiel looked at it for a long moment, fingers rubbing the edge of the bandage on his neck and his gaze indescribable. Dean could sense the longing. Again, he mourned the choice Cas hadn’t gotten to make.

“I want you to keep it.”

“Are you sure, Cas? I mean—”

Castiel closed Dean’s fingers around the vial and smiled sadly.

“It’s a gift. You keep those.”

With that, he turned away and went back to sorting through and refolding the clothing in his chest of drawers. When he finished, he started straightening the lamp on his bedside table. Dean stayed where he was, watching and building up the nerve to ask a big question. Maybe he took too long.

“Was there something else you wanted from me?”

Dean hesitated even more at Cas’ clipped tone. This wasn’t how he expected their first conversation to go, now that Cas was back.

“I can’t… I can’t hear your yearning anymore,” Castiel said, almost nonchalantly, but Dean could hear the sadness and uncertainty there. “You’re going to have to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Are you angry with me? For making you human?”

“A little bit,” Castiel confessed without looking up. “But my... my grace was failing already. I knew I would end up like this, if I survived. So, I guess... I guess I’m not angry with you. I’m glad to be alive. To get more time with Jack, and you, and Sam... I just... I wish I had a choice in what happened.”

Dean nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll adjust. I’ve done it before.”

“You don’t have to do it alone this time. We’re all here for you.”

Castiel let out a world-weary sigh. “I know.”

Dean hovered uncertainly for a moment, wondering whether he was unwelcome, when Castiel continued.

“Dean… I wanted to make sure that my… _what I said_ doesn’t get in the way of our working relationship.” Castiel turned to face him, obviously speaking carefully. “You’re… like family to me.”

Dean’s heart sank. Maybe he had been right to doubt Castiel's feelings. Maybe he _had_ misinterpreted. 

“Yeah, buddy, of course. We’re, uh, we’re still friends. That doesn’t change.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Dean parroted back. Castiel nodded somberly and turned back to the wall, and Dean let the façade crumble. Maybe family was all they were ever meant to be.

“There’s a burger in the kitchen for you. I’ll heat it up while you get changed.”

Dean wasn’t especially hungry during dinner, and even though Jack was bubbly when he and a freshly cleaned Miracle came in to eat, he couldn’t ignore how Castiel was still so stiff around him after that.

The rest of the day was uneventful, with Castiel basically avoiding him. Late in the night, Dean woke fresh from a nightmare and heard voices. Castiel. Maybe Cas was in the same situation, maybe he too wanted a distraction from dreaming. The light spilling out from under his door seemed to suggest that. Against his better judgement, he came to a stop outside of Cas’ room instead of continuing towards the DeanCave.

Cas’ voice was so soft that Dean couldn’t quite make out what was said, and he was about to knock before someone replied.

“This is just like last time, with the Great Fall,” Jack said brightly. “You have Sam and Dean, like then, and now me, too. You don’t have to be human alone.”

Dean felt guilt wash over him, unbearably heavy, and walked away. The Great Fall? That had to have been years ago, when Sam was doing the trials and the angels were cast out. He and Sam had hardly been there for Cas; Dean had kicked Castiel out, for fuck’s sake. What the hell had he told Jack?

A lie.

Was he lying to himself as well?

No, Dean had been in his memories. Castiel knew just how alone he was when he was human the first time. Maybe this was his way of moving forward, his way of hiding from Jack how rocky the past really was. Regardless, Dean didn’t sleep that night.

He stayed in the DeanCave until about eight in the morning when Miracle joined him before deciding it was time to make himself presentable and get things going. Dean wandered into the kitchen at nine to make breakfast only to find that everyone else was already there.

Sam stood by the stove with a bowl, carefully spooning waffle mix while Jack was chowing down on a waffle at the table. Beside him sat Castiel with a cup of coffee, deep in a conversation with—

“When did Eileen get here?”

“Morning!” Sam greeted brightly. “She got in about an hour ago. Working a case not far from here, thought she’d stop by.”

Eileen looked up from her conversation to smile at Dean, and only a minute later directed that same smile but brighter at Sam as he slid her a plate with a waffle before taking the seat beside her.

Unfortunately for Dean, that left only two places to sit, and neither were especially appealing, given everything. He chose what he hoped was the better option and sat between Cas and Jack even though he could see Castiel tense slightly. That had to be better than being caught between the lovers and the wall, right?

“How’d you sleep?” he asked Castiel, who, no longer in conversation with Eileen, was nursing his coffee. He turned slowly, obviously still in need of another cup.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“According to Jack, I slept for almost three days after I was brought back. I didn’t particularly feel the need to sleep more.” Jack turned at the mention of his name but Miracle vied for his attention as well, and ultimately she won out.

“That’s not quite how that works…”

“Well, that’s what you have coffee for, right?”

Castiel took another long sip and grimaced.

“You know you can add to it, right? You don’t have to drink it black.”

Castiel grumbled softly as Dean got out the creamer but still held out his mug for Dean to add to until it was a little lighter in color.

“Better?” Dean asked as Castiel took a long sip.

“Maybe.”

“Good.” Dean put the creamer away and got himself a mug of coffee before returning. “I was thinking, do you want to go to the store? Could get you some clothes so you don’t have to live out of your trenchcoat.”

“Not today,” Castiel replied, finishing his mug and staring at the dregs. “I was going to decode Jack’s messages.”

Jack turned again and grinned widely. “You are?”

“Of course.” He stood and stretched his arms upwards and Dean watched his t-shirt ride up above his hip bones. “But first, I’m going to shower.”

As he watched Cas go, Dean couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. What if Castiel had said no because he simply didn’t want to hang out with Dean? Especially after the confession, or whatever the hell that had been if Cas truly saw him as a brother like he said, things were awkward. Even as the fear crept in, Dean hoped things would get better with time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would it really be destiel fanfiction if there wasn't just a little man pain and "you're like family"??? no.
> 
> castiel absolutely did not think he would be alive to deal with telling _his best friend_ that he is _in love_ with him so can you blame him for backtracking a little  
> I hate it too but hey it's Monday so things can only get better, yeah?


	10. Nothing Left to Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a nightmare and Dean realizes how much the Empty and his memories are still affecting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > I scarcely know where to begin, but love is always a safe place.
> 
> – Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Louise Norcross, dated March 1886

Things didn’t get easier. With every day that went by, Dean could practically feel the gap between himself and Castiel widen. It was maddening, yet there was no way to express it. It was about more than feelings; Dean could keep going on repressing his feelings like he had for most of his life. What he couldn't do was lose his best friend yet again.

Still, everything was different. Their conversations were silent, unspoken, and Dean felt like he never saw him anymore, despite living under the same roof. Hell, they only lived down the hall from each other, but Cas always found a way to distance himself. He was on a walk. He went for a drive. He took Jack to a store a few hours away or to the movie theater. Thank fuck he hadn't gone on a hunt yet.

“He’s probably just getting used to being human,” Sam tried to explain. “It’s a big change, and there’s nothing wrong with him wanting to figure himself out a little. Besides, he’s always been a little come-and-go.”

Sam wasn’t wrong, but to Dean, it sure felt like Castiel was leaving. He was always leaving. 

Dean could never get him to stay, and why would he now that they were all free to live as they wanted? Why would Castiel stick around when he had a whole new world to explore?

A few nights later, Dean found himself in the same situation as before: he couldn’t sleep, even with Miracle warm beside him. He left her in bed and roamed the halls instead.

Dean did a double take as he walked by Cas’ door. He could hear what sounded like…sobbing. Was Castiel awake at this hour?

“Cas?” he called, knocking. He waited a beat, and when there was no response, he opened the door anyway. Castiel was safely in his bed, curled up on his side.

“You good?”

Castiel’s eyes were blank, tears streaming down his face. His breaths came in gasps: ragged, haggard gasps that shook his body violently.

“Cas, hey!”

“Go—” Castiel panted, pointing to the door. “Get out! Le— leave me alo—”

Dean flinched at the harshness of his tone, but he knew something wasn't right. “Cas?”

“You’re—You’re not real—”

Dean’s heart dropped as he understood. Castiel thought he was back in the Empty. Dean did the only thing he could do: he placed one hand on Cas’ forearm and used the other to turn on the lamp, steadying Castiel as he flinched away from it.

“Cas, hey, look at me. _It’s me._ Please.”

“D—Dean—” Cas’ fingers wound into Dean’s shirt so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Dean allowed his hand to drift up to Castiel’s face, cupping his cheek and curling around to his neck. “That’s right, buddy.”

Castiel breathlessly mouthed his name again, eyes wide with suddenly clarity but still deeply fearful.

“I’m—I can’t brea—”

“It’s okay,” Dean murmured, ushering some calm into Cas’ eyes. “It’ll come back to you. Just focus on me, alright?”

For several minutes, Dean talked to him, told him about everything and nothing. The death grip on his shirt relaxed as Dean watched his angel come back to him bit by bit. Still, he was tense, muscles locked and tight. Dean knew how Castiel was feeling—that shaky, ill uncertainty—he wouldn’t be going back to sleep for a while.

“Hey, let’s get out of here for a little bit.”

Disjointedly, Castiel nodded and rose, eager to leave behind his tangled bedsheets and the darkness of the room. Dean couldn’t blame him.

They ended up in the DeanCave on the couch Dean had just gotten a few weeks before Cas had been taken. Cas had put himself at a small distance: far enough that they didn’t touch but close enough that they could.

Dean flipped the channel just in time to catch the start of a Looney Tunes episode. Remembering Castiel’s past interest in the cartoons, he left it there.

“I like TV,” Castiel said quietly after a few minutes. Dean nodded and looked over to him, watching the bright colors reflect from his blank face.

“Maybe you would like Scooby Doo.” Castiel turned to him, brows furrowed. “Uh, the cartoon we were trapped in a few years ago.”

“With the talking dog?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied fondly. “Jack loves it.”

Castiel nodded with a small smile.

“I’m not surprised... He takes after you and Sam quite a bit.”

Cas’ gaze drifted back to the television and he fell silent and still once again. Dean lost track of the episodes, the time that flew by, until he saw Cas’ head start to bob as he nodded off.

“Hey.” Cas turned and squinted at him, eyes tired and unfocused. “Wanna hit the hay?”

The squint grew deeper for a second before the meaning clicked. “Not yet. I want to finish a few more.”

Within five minutes, his head was bobbing again.

“Alright, c’mere.” Dean patted the space between them. Castiel took the hint and moved closer until Dean could feel the heat of a body pressed up against his own. Cas’ head found a place against Dean’s shoulder and soon enough, he was sound asleep. Dean shifted enough to wrap a warm arm around him, pulled the blanket on the back of the couch over Castiel, and fell asleep.

Come morning, Dean awoke alone on the couch, though the blanket covered him nicely. What had happened? Did he scare Cas off? Worse than that, did he leave again, like he always did?

Dean found him in the kitchen, stirring honey into a cup of black tea as he listened to Jack.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Jack asked, hands frozen in the act of preparing cereal.

“Yes. I think a place of my own would…”

Dean felt his stomach twist and said a gruff “Morning” as he entered the small room. Cas looked away guiltily and Jack frowned into the cereal box.

“Kid, how about you put that stuff away?” Dean reached up to grab a frying pan. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Alright.”

“Pancakes sound good to you?”

“Yeah!”

“Cas, can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Dean nodded and started cooking. Castiel started a conversation about Star Wars characters that Jack happily added to, but Dean couldn’t focus on it. What had he walked in on? A place of Cas’ own? Did he want to move out? After everything they had gone through…was Castiel leaving him again?

He put chocolate chips in one pancake and a smiley face of whipped cream on the other before sliding the plate in front of Jack with a smile.

“These’re awesome!”

Dean didn’t miss when even Cas smiled, but it felt hollow. _He_ felt hollow. What if Cas was leaving today? What if they didn’t get the chance to talk? The Winchester made himself a pancake and scarfed it down just in time to clear away Jack’s plate. Dean saw his chance to talk, and he took it.

“Jack, uh, how about you go get dressed. We can do something today.”

“Like fishing?”

“More like shopping, but maybe after.”

Jack was content with that and headed towards his room.

“You got up early,” Dean commented as he slid into a seat across from Cas. “Missed you.”

“Yes. We were, uh, _very close_ together when I woke up. I didn't think you would be comfortable with that. I, uh, didn’t want to force you into anything you didn’t want. I know our feelings are different, I didn’t want things to be uncomfortable. _More_ uncomfortable.”

Feelings? “Our feelings are different?”

Castiel looked deep into his mug as though it held all of the answers. Softly, he offered, “I'm afraid I might not have been truthful, when I said we were like family. I was worried about what it would be like, what _we_ would be like, and I thought maybe we could go back to how we had been before I said... but I know things have changed. Maybe it would be better if I moved on.”

“Do…do you not remember…” Dean pointed to his own head. “When I was in your head...”

“Of course I remember.”

Dean’s confusion grew exponentially. “I told you that I needed you, Cas. That you could have me.”

“You said what you had to in order to get me back.”

Just like that, everything clicked. Cas didn’t want to leave; he was just doing the same thing as when he left Dean on the couch earlier. He was trying to prevent things from being uncomfortable, but he was blinded by his own fear of slipping up. Their differing feelings were keeping them apart, but there was no difference.

“No, dumbass. I told you that I love you.”

“Like a brother, I know.”

“Dammit, Cas, no. I…I’m _in_ _love_ you. Like you love me.”

Castiel’s mug hit the table with a resounding thud and his eyes went wide. At last, he understood.

“You mean everything you said—”

“I meant it. Every single word.”

“You…” A cautious smile started on Castiel’s face, wide and bright and free. “You love me?”

“Yes—”

“Hey guys!” Sam entered quickly and pulled a yogurt out of the refrigerator, clearly just back from his morning run with Miracle hot on his heels. Dean could have killed him.

Castiel, on the other hand, looked blissfully happy. He outstretched his hand to Dean’s own and his long, deft fingers curled around Dean’s.

“You love me,” he said again. It was definite, factual, and proud. He had that spark in his eye, that bright excited expression Dean hadn’t seen in at least a year, not since Jack had come back to life.

Sam seemed to realize what he had walked into and made himself scarce, and dammit was Dean grateful for that as he kissed Cas’ the way he had been wanting to, felt Cas’ fingers creep up into the hair at the nape of his neck. The grace around Dean’s neck was warm and bright and thrumming with love and for the first time in a long time, Dean felt happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left!!!


	11. Stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean decides to take a big step in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Look, we are not unspectacular things. 
>> 
>> We’ve come this far, survived this much. What 
>> 
>> would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?
> 
> – Ada Limón, excerpt of “Dead Stars,” from _The Carrying_

Now that Castiel had been human for a few weeks, Dean started to notice little changes and distinctly _Cas_ quirks.

Castiel spent mornings in the kitchen, his face propped up by one hand and leaning precariously towards either side while his coffee brewed. When it was done, he tended to hunch over his cup of coffee, and Dean could tell how much of it he had already had by how much he straightened up. His hair went untamed more often than not, though he still made an effort when he planned on going out. There was new graying at his temples, the occasional strand of silver throughout. More noticeable was the gray in his stubble, which was rapidly leaving “stubble” territory and becoming a beard.

Dean slid into the seat across from him at breakfast and thought about bringing it up when Cas beat him to it.

“Your hair got long,” Castiel commented over coffee and Dean ran a hand through it, surprised by how much there was.

“Yeah, I guess I was more focused on other things.” Castiel nodded and stared into his mug for a few moments before Dean retorted, “Anyways, you’re one to talk.”

Castiel stared at him, head tilted in that familiar way, and Dean ran a hand across his own jawline.

“Oh. Yes, I thought it might be a nice change.”

“Well, I like it. It suits you.”

“As long hair does you.”

Castiel reached across the table and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean swore he could still feel the crackles of grace in his touch.

“Don’t expect me to turn into Sam or anything,” Dean said, flustered. “I’ll probably take clippers to it next week.”

“I’ll miss it.”

“Mmm,” Dean hummed back. “Want eggs for breakfast?”

“Please.”

Dean got out the frying pan and started cooking.

“I think I’m going to have to shave today,” Castiel said, mostly to his coffee. “It’s rather itchy.”

“Well, now you know why I’ve never had anything more than a little stubble.”

Castiel hummed in response. In only a few minutes, Dean came back over to the table with a plate of eggs and toast for each of them.

“Thank you.”

Castiel looked beautiful in that moment, scruffy and on his second cup of coffee, with wild hair and bright eyes. He wore Dean’s pajama’s still, even though they had gone on a shopping trip to get him a whole wardrobe a week ago. Maybe that was why Dean was finally able to ask him the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for days.

“Move in with me?”

Castiel gave him a confused look.

“Dean, we already live together.”

“No, Cas, I mean… _move in_ with me. Share a room.”

“Is that…something you want?”

Dean frowned. “Well, yeah, man. If you wanted that. If you don’t—”

“I do,” Castiel was quick to assure, reaching out to take Dean’s hand within his own. “Of course I do. I just didn’t know you wanted it, too.”

Dean felt a smile spread across his face.

The day passed quickly and Dean could feel excitement bursting in his chest.

Castiel was already in the room when Dean got there, wearing a pair of long plaid pajama pants that Dean knew with certainty were his. He was sitting in his chair by the wall reading one of the dusty tomes from the library, or at least that was what Dean thought at first.

“Brecht? Like the poet?”

“Mmm.”

“Which one are you on?”

“Erinnerungen an die Marie A.,” Castiel confirmed. “Reminiscence or Memory of Marie A.”

“Didn’t know you spoke… What is that, German?”

“I speak or read nearly everything,” Castiel replied easily, setting the book down. “Human languages are simple.”

Dean let out a low whistle and slid into bed. “Alright then Mr. Polyglot. You ready to sleep?”

“Of course.”

It was easier than Dean thought it would be. He was nervous, of course, but this was Cas in his bed, his best friend. He could see the peaks of messy hair on the pillow by his, he could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the warm musk of his shampoo. Cas was human, feeling human emotions and living a human life. He wanted to be here, like this, and so did Dean. Maybe this could work.

He thought that until he flipped out the light.

In the dark, everything was stripped away. Suddenly, Dean was hyperaware of how he was sharing a bed for the first time in years. More than that, as minutes ticked by, he grew more aware of how tense Castiel was. At first, he thought it was just nerves, the same trepidation that bubbled under his own skin, but he came to realize there was more to it. Dean could feel every shift of Cas’ body as though it was his own.

“Cas?”

The tossing and turning continued, and Dean swore he could hear Cas’ every breath in the silence.

“You okay?”

“Of course,” he replied, but his voice was strained.

“Cas, you gotta talk to me, or this isn’t going to work.”

The darkness was silent for a moment and Cas laid still before quietly asking, “Can you turn a light on?”

“What?”

“It’s a little too…”

A little too quiet. A little too dark. A little too all-enveloping. A little too much like it was swallowing every sound they could make. A little too much like...

Dean flipped the switch of his light.

Castiel looked unwell, with a pallid face and wide eyes. His chest rose and fell too rapidly for the restfulness of sleep, but the deep furrow of his brow softened in the warm amber.

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed a response. He knew what this was like, how it had to be for Cas. “Do you want to talk about it? The, uh…”

“I…” Castiel began, obviously conflicted.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, it’s just—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to… I’m not sure I have the words.”

Dean fell silent again.

“You’ve been there now. You know how cold and hungry it is. It’s… well, it’s dead. What you don’t know is how the Shadow torments you. How you lose track of what’s real and what’s a memory.”

Castiel took a breath and looked up to the ceiling.

“The first time I was there, I thought it was empty. Genuinely, completely empty. I saw no one, nothing, except the Shadow. I thought I was alone. When I went to talk to Ruby, she told me how full it was, and that’s what I saw… that’s what I saw last time.”

“The figures. Silhouettes,” Dean said, but Castiel shook his head.

“They might have been silhouettes for you, but each was someone to me. Whenever you look at them, they come back to life, they become someone you knew. Like the Shadow itself, the souls that have been there long enough become the same way. Whether you’re awake or asleep, they torment you. You can never be at peace. You can never escape them. Every time you think you’re awake, that you got out, it turns out you were wrong. You were never free; the nightmare just wasn’t as bad for a little while.”

They both let that hang in the air for a few minutes before Castiel whispered, “You have no idea how many times I dreamed about you coming to get me. Saving me. But it was never real.”

“How do you know this is real then?”

“Miracle.”

“What?”

“I never would have dreamt of you with a dog. After what you went through in Hell… It never occurred to me. I’m sure you noticed her absence in my… in my head.”

“I’d say she’s more Jack’s dog than anyone else’s at this point,” Dean said. “She used to sleep with me all the time but she tends to hang out with him more, now that he’s here. Maybe cause he’s more energetic.”

“Are you calling yourself old?”

“What? No.”

Castiel fixed him with a knowing gaze.

“I’m still…youthful. Vibrant.”

“Mhm.”

“But I do like this new change of pace. Not…jumping from one hunt to the next. Which I could still do, of course.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed.

Dean glared at him, but Castiel just smiled.

“But I couldn’t see myself with a dog before her either. I guess it was more… She needed someone. And I think we needed— _I needed_ —someone, too.”

“So, you saved her.”

Dean shrugged, not willing to admit that it might have been the other way around. _That_ was too much like a Hallmark movie.

“Then I was right. You do everything for love.”

“I don’t know about _everything—_ ”

“You do,” Castiel said, shifting onto his side.

“Come on, I have an image to maintain.”

“Then good thing we’re the only ones here.”

Dean nodded his agreement and turned his head to Cas, who clearly was trying to find the words to say something more.

“If you’ve got something else to say, you can just ask, you know.”

“May I hold you?”

Well, _that_ wasn’t quite what Dean had expected.

“What, like spoon?”

“I don’t know what utensils have to do with it, but could I put my head on your shoulder?”

“Sure, buddy. Go for it.”

Dean shifted himself a little more towards the center of the bed and felt as Cas’ arm drape across his body, hand landing on his shoulder where a scar used to be. Dean shivered at the spark of it but the weight grounded him. It was warm, and the softness of Cas’ hair was nice against his jaw. If he were so inclined, he could plant a kiss there, so he did.

 _Oh yeah_ , Dean thought to himself. _This could definitely work._

Castiel stilled and Dean wrapped his arm around the other man, feeling tense muscles relax.

“This okay?”

“Better than okay.”

Before long, Castiel nodded off, and not long after, Dean fell asleep embraced by his angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tune in on Monday for the final chapter!!!


End file.
